We Know How the Light Works
by Writerforthem
Summary: Sam can just barely see Dean looking down at him. They lock eyes. Dean nods once before looking up. "Dad?" "Dean." Dean sighs. Then looks back down at Sam, his baby brother, hanging from his hand above his possible death. "Dad, I'm going to let go." preseries and moves into wincest but nothing too major. I keep the focus on the plot.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a preview/first chapter of the next story I'm working on. It will be updated a little slower than the last one because of school and such, but I'll never leave a story hanging.  
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**My first pre-series fic. Maybe wincest too. That seems to be where this is headed. Nothing that will raise the rating though, which is only 'T' out of caution more than anything. So if you don't like wincest, it won't be too much where it will ruin the story for you I hope.  
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**Anyway, enjoy chapter one. :)  
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**Ch. 1**

Saying John Winchester was protective of his sons would be an understatement. Sure, he wasn't the best father. Never got much practice before his wife was killed and he had to start raising his sons for the dangerous life they lived. But he was always protective. It was that protective instinct that spurred him into making Dean into the man he is today.

Dean is going to be the perfect hunter someday. From the age of four, he's been trained and molded into a killing machine. Not exactly what John wants for his son, but all he has to give in this life. Teaching him everything possible to stay alive. His hearing isn't better than any other human's, but he can listen better to the little things. Can pick a dangerous sound out from the middle of a noisy bar. The chambering of a bullet in a gun. The unsheathing of a knife. Sometimes John can swear Dean can hear bad thoughts. But he figures it's just instinct by this point.

Dean seems to have been born for this life. Ever since he's grown, filled out to what will probably be his final height of almost six foot (might get another inch or so), he's started becoming a match for John in sparring matches. He's a sharpshooter like none John even saw in the army, knows hundreds of ways to kill men and creatures alike, and seems to have the mindset to do it. He's all for killing whoever poses a threat. Especially to Sam.

Now, Sam… John knows Sam could be better than he is. Heck, the kid is still good for how young he is. He's shot up in height recently too. By the looks of it, he'll be on his way to catching up to his brother in no time. But he's still fifteen, so he's all arms and legs after losing the baby fat and is still trying to figure out to control the newly grown limbs. Besides that though, Sam doesn't try as hard. Doesn't have the bloodlust his brother does. Sure, he's killed a creature or two. Will do whatever he needs to when the time comes. But he never goes looking for it. He wants a normal life.

John knows this. But with knowing what's out there, he can't bear the thought of letting his son go out on his own. Knowing the world is full of vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, wendigos, and jinns. He does what he can to ensure that Sam understands the dangers. But the youngest Winchester never wants to listen. Doesn't want to move when they go to a different state after the latest ghost or monster. Doesn't want to practice sparring when he'd rather do homework. If it weren't for Dean, John fears that Sam wouldn't even try. But Dean motivates him. That's the last thing.

Sam and Dean as a team is starting to look like a very good thing. Dean with a mind like a war general when it comes to weapons and stats. Sam with his brilliant mind providing the stats and coming up with ideas from Dean's knowledge of weapons and creatures. When John sits back and gives them his cases to learn from and practice with, his pride grows each time. Those boys of his really complete the other when it comes to this stuff. Other days… lets just say he's glad he's not around for most of the fights that happen.

It's only been recently that he's been taking Sam on hunts. Started taking Dean when he was sixteen, but with both himself and Dean to watch out for Sam, he's started taking him on the easy hunts this year when he turned fifteen. Giving him the chance to learn the same things Dean has from Dean himself. He finds that when out on a hunt, it's Dean that does the teaching. Never leaves Sam's side. John doesn't doubt it's because of what seems to be the never ending mantra in his son's head. _Protect Sammy. Protect Sammy. Protect Sammy._

Sometimes John worries about putting that weight on Dean's shoulders. Dean has pushed him away before when Sam was hurt as a child. Not letting his dad interfere when Sam had scraped his knee or a bully had gotten the better of him. Dean always took it upon himself to clean his little brother up, and sporting his own battle scars the next day if it was a human that had hurt Sam. John always wondered what happened to the boys that Dean got back at. He decides that it was probably worse than anything Dean came home with if they messed with Sammy.

John knows his sons. How Dean can be smart as a whip when he needs to be. Thoughts faster than lightning. Reflexes as fast as a cats when needed. Eyes sharp as a hawks. Sam can be impressive too when he tries. And smarter than John would believe for his age. He gets that from his mother. But together, they have the capacity to do the damage of five men. When Sam gets older, bigger, stronger, it will be more. But for now, John helps them grow. That's why he decided on taking them both on the hunt for a wendigo.

Later, he decides it wasn't one of his best ideas. He makes mistakes sometimes. This was one of them. Sam is still a little small. His growth spurt has been a decent one, showing that the rest of it will be good to him. But it isn't quite to the point that he's big enough to be as dangerous as Dean is. Even if he does know good moves. But with the growing of his limbs to the point where he's as awkward as any teenager is, it's harder to have perfect reaction time.

It's one of those moments where it doesn't really hit you, what happened, until later. It happens too quickly and too unexpectedly to really set in until it's over or you're totally screwed. They're boys being boys when it happens. Dean shoving Sam, Sam giving Dean the scowl he always returns Dean's actions with these days. They're a ways behind John. Just starting up the mountain into where he has a hunch of where the wendigo has been hiding out. Campers and even trail-walking locals have been disappearing. It wasn't hard to see the signs when they got here, bright and early after getting to town the night before.

He called over his shoulder to tell his boys to hurry up when he felt it. The ground moving under him. Just a small shift. But he didn't like it. They had ventured off the trail earlier when he had seen the signs of the most recent attack being carried off. Something the officials missed because they were looking for a bear. Or wolves. Being two legged, the wendigo's trail wasn't picked up. Only the claw marks on trees, hard to see unless you were looking for them, led the way.

Off the trail, the shift in ground is never a good sign. He calls over his shoulder. "Boys! Don't move!"

Both freeze in answer to the urgency in John's voice.

He looks around his feet, looking for what could possibly have been the reason for the shift. Nothing.

"Dad?" Dean calls from behind. "What is it?"

John looks over his shoulder again, seeing Dean with his hand protectively gripping Sam's shoulder, brows furrowed in his familiar worried face. "I'm not sure," he answers. He takes a few more steps forward, brows furrowing when nothing happens.

Before he can say anything else, Sam and Dean both take more steps forward. The ground under them suddenly shifts too, causing them to freeze right where John had earlier. Dean's hand closes on the shoulder of Sam's jacket, knuckles white. Two pairs of wide eyes lift up to lock on John, even Dean's nineteen years looking to be all of twelve at the moment.

John holds up his hands. "Don't move boys. Let me figure this out."

Dean swallows. "Yes sir." John's proud of the way there is no shake in his son's voice.

"Dad?" Sam speaks for the first time.

"Hold on, Sam," he answers. Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to move his feet. Feels around. Tries to make sure the area he's standing in is stable. Every time the ground doesn't move, he lets out a little more of a breath. He very cautiously makes his way to where it feels unquestionably stable. Then he looks to his sons, now only ten feet away. "Alright. You're going to do this very slowly. You get me?"

They nod as one, Dean taking the initiative and pulling Sam back against his chest. Matches his feet to Sam's. "Alright, Sammy. We're going to walk together. Okay?"

Sam nods, chest heaving, but the fear is hidden from his face.

"Just let me do the moving." He nudges his left foot into Sam's, smiling as Sam gets the idea and keeps his foot touching Dean's as Dean moves them forward. "Good."

John feels pride well up as he watches the brave actions of his sons. Dean keeping his arms locked around Sam, hands fisted in his jacket in case the ground decided to swallow him up. Sam's hands gripping Dean's arms in what has to be a painful grip, but keeping his eyes on the ground as he lets Dean's feet nudge his own corresponding ones forward. Almost like a father and child at a dance. Dean's toes sneaking under the heel of Sam's foot to keep them at the same pace. Left. Right. Shuffling slowly forward.

The whole while, Dean keeps conversation. For him or Sam, John doesn't know. "What do you think it is?"

John sighs. "Not sure. No volcanoes around."

Sam snorts in amusement.

John grins. "Somehow I think we stumbled upon a weak spot in the mountain. Maybe old tunnels or even a mine. I'm not sure. We'll definitely be checking out a map of the area for those things when we get back to the hotel. The Wendigo will have to wait."

The ground suddenly sinks a little under the feet of his combined sons. All three of them freeze in fear. When nothing else happens, Dean lets out a small sigh. "Alright, Sammy. Another step." He slides his toe under Sam's heel, nudging their feet another small step.

"It's Sam," Sam grumbles.

Dean chuckles. "Whatever you say, Sammy."

Sam scowls down at their feet as they take another step.

They're only five feet away now. Soon, John will be able to grab them. He leans forward in anticipation.

The next step proves to be the straw that breaks the proverbial camel's back so to speak. Before any of them can do anything, the ground suddenly opens, swallowing the two young Winchesters down into the black depths that suddenly gapes open.

John cries out, taking a step and reaching out though he already knows it won't do any good. He hears Sam's cry, knowing Dean's is absent because he's most likely gritting his teeth in determination to do anything that will keep them from dying. As Sam's cry is still echoing around him, John moves forward as carefully as he can to the edge of the hole in the ground. "Boys?"

"Dad!" Dean answers.

John sighs in relief. "Status report!" he calls down, wanting to get a read on the situation.

It's silent for a second. Then, "Not good, sir," is the reply.

"Sam okay?"

"I'm good!" Sam answers. The shake in his voice isn't reassuring.

"Dean?"

"We uh… we're kind of in a situation here."

John makes it to where he can kneel at the edge of the hole in the ground now. He looks down into the pitch black, reaching back into his bag and pulling out his flashlight when he discovers he can't see anything. He shines it down, trying to keep the beam from pointing at where he guesses his sons are in hopes to not blind them. What he sees has him gaping in shock.

What he pictured, was maybe Sam and Dean sitting on the ground of a pit. The ground maybe ten feet deep. But it's so much worse. "Hold on, Dean. You hear me?"

His oldest is hanging by his left hand from a wooden beam, Sam dangling from his other hand. Both pairs of knuckles are white, but the grimace on Sam's face says that Dean's gripping his hand a lot harder than he's gripping the wooden beam. Immediately, John worries about Dean's shoulders. Wonders how strong Dean's arms still are with the tension pulling on the sockets. There is no end to the blackness beneath them in sight.

Gritting his teeth, Dean looks up. "Do we have any rope?"

Now that would have been a good thing to have. Except none of them thought that they'd be spelunking today. "No," he sighs. He sits up, looking around. Nothing. As far as the eye can see through the trees. They're on their own. Looking down again, he sees Sam swing his second hand up to grip Dean's arm. "You okay, Sam?"

Sam looks up, eyes still wide with panic. "Yeah," he chokes out.

John shines his flashlight down. "Dean, can you see anything down there?"

Dean looks down, past his brother, into the unending black. The flashlight never touches the bottom. "It's deep," he answers. "Very, very deep. I can't see the bottom."

John curses. "Looks like we did stumble across a mine, seeing that you're holding onto a manmade wooden beam. This is most likely the air shaft since it's so deep. Hold on. I'm going to see what I can find around here." Gingerly standing, John steps back away from the hole and carefully walks away until he keeps feeling solid ground under his feet. He looks everywhere for anything that could help him reach his sons.

When he's gone, Dean looks down at Sam. "It's gonna be okay, Sam."

Sam's eyes lock with his, big and round with fear. "You can't hold us that long, Dean."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Watch me."

Sam looks up above them. "If you had two hands, you'd be able to climb out."

Dean narrows his eyes. "Don't you even."

"Dean…"

"Dad's going to help us. Don't you dare."

Sam's eyes water. "He's not going to find anything, Dean. We're screwed."

"Easy, Sammy. We're gonna make it out of here. You hear me? Both of us. I'm not letting you go. Alright?"

Sam nods, hair falling into his eyes. He can't believe it. They're hanging over an abyss, no way to climb out and nothing to help them and Dean still sounds like he has a plan. Typical.

Dean almost smiles at the familiar sight of Sam's hair falling into his face. "Hey, you wanna try climbing up here?"

Sam tilts his head.

"Climb up my arm. I'd rather have you up here than hanging off my hand. You may even be able to climb out."

Sam bites his lip. "You sure?"

Dean nods. "I've seen you climb. You can do it."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Sam uncurls his fingers from where they're gripping Dean's jacket. It moves up a little more, then latches on again. Then he looks up to Dean. "Don't let me fall."

Dean shakes his head. "Never."

Then Sam carefully let's go of his brother's hand, quickly swinging it up to grip his arm a second later.

Dean grunts.

Sam looks up, panicked. "What?"

Dean huffs. "Relax. My shoulder's just a little sore. Keep going." His hand grips his brother's jacket where it's in his reach in case Sam loses grip on his arm.

Sam bites his lip, right hand gripping Dean's arm tightly before he jerks himself up again, left hand reaching up to take another handful of Dean's jacket, right under his shoulder.

Dean groans, then smiles encouragingly. "Doin' good, Sammy. Keep coming." His hand reaches around until he feels his brother's belt, gripping it tightly and pulling a little. The wooden beam moans ominously under his left hand.

His brother pulling on his belt gives Sam a little more leverage to pull up even more the next time, arm swinging up to wrap around his brother's neck. He lets out a choked noise he'll never admit to, bringing his other arm around Dean's neck and burying his face into it as he feels an arm come around his waist to hold tight.

"I've gotchya, Sammy. You're alright. I'm not letting go." He keeps his fist tightly around his brother's belt. One strong thing he knows will hold in case Sam loses his grip for any reason. He's not taking any chances.

Sam nods against his neck, pulling back a second later to look up. "I don't think I'll be able to climb out."

Dean looks up too, groaning when he sees only dirt above the wooden beam. "Alright. That's okay. I still like this more than you just hanging from my hand."

Sam snorts, letting his forehead fall back into his brother's collar bone. "Me too."

Dean chuckles. He tries to feel for footholds along the wall. Hopes for a little more stability. He freezes when he feels the board under his hand move.

Sam instantly picks up on his stiffness. "Dean?"

"Don't move, Sammy."

Sam tightens his arms around his brother's neck. "What is it?"

Dean hesitates.

"Dean…" It's the shake in Sam's voice that makes him answer.

"The board is giving away."

"Oh God."

"Easy, Sam. It's alright. Dad will be back soon. He'll helps us. You'll see."

"Dean, I'm not a child," Sam murmurs. "I know we're screwed."

Dean tightens his arm around Sam's waist. "Just hold on. Okay?"

Sam nods. "Okay."

It's another minute before the board moves again, Dean watching the nails disappear into the rotting wood. "You've gotta be kidding me." Rocks and dirt fall away, disappearing into the abyss below. Then Dean hears their last-ditch-effort-salvation. Something that was missed in the chaos earlier. "Water."

Sam looks up. "I heard it too."

Dean laughs, letting his head fall forward into Sam's shoulder. "We could be okay," he huffs. "Let's just hope it's deep."

Sam hums. "Well seeing how deep this tunnel goes, it could be flooded from the recent storm. It could easily be deep enough to keep us from at least breaking anything."

Dean chuckles, tapping the side of his head to Sam's where they're both bowed forward into each other. "You're such a nerd."

Sam lifts his head, glaring as Dean looks back with a grin.

"Dean?"

They both look up in relief. "Dad!"

John is leaning over the hole again, flashlight in hand. He blinks at the sight that greets him. Sam had actually managed to make it up into the safety of Dean's arm. "Good job boys."

Dean grins. "Sam's a spider monkey."

Sam scowls at him. "Shut up."

John shakes his head. "Alright. I couldn't find anything good around here. We're going to try using a branch. Okay?"

They nod.

He reaches behind him, lowering it. "Sam, you're going to grab hold first. "Alright? And you're going to climb up. Just like you probably did with Dean's arm."

Dean chuckles.

Sam is frowning. "But Dean…"

"Dean will follow," his dad cuts in. "Let's just get you out of there first so he can have two arms to grab this with. Okay?"

Sam looks to Dean.

Dean gives him an encouraging smile. "Go on, sport. Besides, Dad will need your help to hold onto the branch when I climb up. I'm not as light as you."

Sam still looks worried, but he looks up and waits for the branch to reach them. It barely does. It's a good thing Sam was able to climb up to where he is now. He lets go of Dean with his right hand, left still wrapped around Dean's neck. He uses it to pull himself up in a small lunge to reach the branch.

The lunge puts more stress on the wooden beam. It gives.

Dean lets out a cry, hand scrabbling for a new handhold that happens to be a new beam just under the beam that gave, stopping their fall. He lets out a sharp cry when the stop jolts his shoulder, but lets out an even more pained "No!" when he feels Sam's grip ripped from his shoulder. It's with reflexes quicker than he's ever had that he grabs Sam's wrist yet again. He lets out yet another cry when his little brother's weight yanks on his shoulder again.

"Dean!"

Answering his father's panicked voice, Dean looks up. "We're okay! I've got him!"

No one moves for a minute. John lets his sons figure out where they stand now. Dean lets Sam calm his frantic breathing. Sam let's Dean get a better grip on his wrist. Until he realizes something.

"Dean."

Dean looks down, barely seeing his brother's face in the darkness.

"The branch won't reach me now."

Dean frowns. Opens his mouth to answer.

Sam interrupts him. "You could. If you had both hands."

Dean's hand grips his brother's wrist tighter. "Sam, no."

Sam sniffs, tears filling his eyes. "We won't make it out of here. At least not both of us. But you could."

"Sam, for the last time, no."

"Sam, listen to me," John says from above. "We'll figure this out. Okay?"

Sam sniffs again. "Dad. You can't reach us. Dean can't hold on forever."

"Then we're going down together," Dean growls.

"There's water at the bottom, Dean. I can let go. You can climb out. I'll sit tight until you come back with rope."

"We don't know how deep it is," Dean argues.

Sam huffs. "All the more reason for at least one of us to stay."

"No, Sam."

John is silent above. Helpless. There's nothing he can do. He feels despair creeping up.

"I'm going to let go." He lets go of the grip he has on Dean's wrist.

John's anguished 'No!' is drowned out by Dean screaming the same word. He waits, frantic for a hint of what just happened.

"Dean! Let me go!"

Dean has his hand clamped tight enough around Sam's wrist that the bones actually grind audibly together. Bruises are already starting to show up. "You listen to me Samuel," he grits out as Sam lets out a pained squeak from the grip on his wrist.

Sam looks up, eyes wide. Dean never uses his full name unless he's _livid_.

"The day I let you fall to God knows where without any idea what's down there without me there to protect you, is the day Dad gives up the hunt for the thing that killed mom."

Despite himself, John chuckles above.

Sam can just barely see Dean looking down at him. They lock eyes. Dean nods once before looking up. "Dad?"

"Dean."

Dean sighs. Then looks back down at Sam, his baby brother, hanging from his hand above his possible death. "Dad, I'm going to let go."

John closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Dean…"

"No." The tone is final, and John blinks as he realizes it's the only time Dean has ever told him no. "I'm not letting him go, Dad."

John knows then, that there's not talking him out of it. He nods. "Okay," he whispers. He desperately prays to anything and everything that there's a good amount of water at the bottom.

The whisper carries down to Dean. He gives Sam a shaky smile. "Ready?"

Sam nods, tears in his eyes.

Dean lets go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow. I can't believe the response I got to the first chapter. Thanks guys! :)  
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**Had a chance before class to update this, so first update is at a reasonable time. Enjoy!  
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* * *

**Ch. 2**

The fall itself seems to last forever. Maybe it's just because of the darkness. The unknown at the bottom. Regardless, Dean manages to grab Sam as they fall and tuck him into his body as much as he can before they hit the bottom. When they do, ice-cold water welcomes them. It wraps them in its icy arms, soaking them both to the bone almost instantly.

When they resurface, it's to the echo of their names.

Dean recovers enough to answer first. "We're okay!" He laughs, holding Sam tightly to him where his brother still clings.

Above, John lets out a relieved sigh, head falling into his hands before said hands scrub over his face and through his hair with leftover frustration. He doesn't know what he would have done if his boys hadn't survived.

Dean gently pries Sam off of him, wiping his brother's wet hair from where it's plastered to his forehead and tilts his head up to him. "You alright?"

Sam nods, then looks up. Way above them, the small circle of light silhouettes their father. He chokes back a shocked whine. "We could have died."

"Hey, no. No doing that. Okay? We're alright."

Sam looks to the vague shape of his brother. It's almost pitch black down here. "For now. How are we going to get out? We can't stay here. It took us two days to get this far up into the mountain."

Dean looks up. "Dad!"

"Already ahead of you!" he calls back, flashlight shining down to them. "I put it in one of the plastic bags with our sandwiches so water can't get into it. See if you can find a way out of there." He drops the flashlight, light bulb down so Dean can see it as it falls.

Dean catches it, double checking the zip lock on the plastic bag before shining it around them. Nothing above water. He turns to Sam. "I'm going down to look. Alright? I'll be right back."

Sam nods, trying not to show his panic now that they have light to see each other by. The thought of his brother not being here with him terrifies him though.

Dean squeezes his arm before taking a deep breath and diving under.

Sam watches the light scope out the area under water, letting out a sigh of relief when he sees the beam go through the walls somewhere below instead of stop at it. When Dean comes up he grabs him again. "Did you find a way out?"

Dean nods, wiping water from his face. "There's a tunnel!" he calls up. "It's clear as far as I can see."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah!"

John lets out a sigh. "Okay! I won't be able to get someone up here fast enough to get you! You need to start making your way down the mountain! This is most likely the highest place! A search team will start from the bottom and work their way up! I'll tell them you're working your way down!" He turns to his bag, digging out a few things before zipping it.

Being water proof, at least advertised that way anyway, this bag should help the supplies in it to survive. He's already taken out one of the flair guns in case he runs into the wendigo in the area, one of their sandwiches, a few of his weapons, and his journal in case the bag isn't as waterproof as it's supposed to be. The rest he left for his sons. "I'm sending down my bag! It hopefully will have anything useful you might need!" He pulls the zipper as tight to the end as he can, and holds it over the hole. "You ready?"

"Yeah!" Dean answers from below.

"When I drop it, you need to grab it and immediately start through the underwater tunnel! The bag should be water proof, but you need to keep the supplies as dry as possible! Swim fast, you hear? There has to be dry land somewhere on the other side!"

Dean looks to Sam. "You go, I'll be right behind. Ready?"

Sam nods, taking a deep breath as Dean hands him the flashlight.

"One, two, three." He looks up as Sam disappears under water. "Now!"

"I'll see you soon!" His dad calls.

When Dean catches the bag, he throws the strap over his head and dives under. He follows the light ahead, Sam leading the way. He's glad for his brother's fast swimming as he starts to catch up and already feel his lungs starting to protest. Ahead, Sam starts to look like he's trying to go faster.

It seems like forever, but eventually, Sam starts to angle up. Dean swims faster, lungs starting to burn. He feels himself start to lose his control. He keeps following the light, reaching it just as the urge to breathe becomes too strong. When he breaks the surface, his breath is half water, half air. He chokes, floundering for something to grab. Something grabs _him_.

Sam yanks him up onto the ground, slamming his hand onto his older brother's back to make him choke up as much of the water as possible. He slides the strap of the bag over Dean's head and shoulders, throwing it behind him as he starts laughing breathlessly. "You okay?"

Dean holds up a hand, spitting a few more times and coughing a few just to finish up. Then he looks to Sam. "You can really hold your breath, kiddo."

Sam grins. "You need to work on that."

"Shut up. I just figured you can be allowed to be better at one thing than me."

Sam chuckles. "Sure you did." He starts pulling off his jacket, leaning over to do the same to Dean after. "We need to get some of these wet clothes off. Who knows how long we'll be stuck down here. Pneumonia is not something we need."

Dean nods, moving to his over shirt after Sam pulls his jacket off. "We'll sling them over the bag. Hopefully they'll air dry."

Sam nods, pulling his t-shirt over his head.

Dean follows his lead, laying them over the duffel spread out enough for them to hopefully dry. As long as they can stay on dry land, anyway. "How much water do you think is down here?"

Sam shrugs, standing to look around the dark world they've found themselves in, lit only by the flashlight still laying on the ground. "Who knows. We got to this town at the end of a nasty storm."

Dean chuckles. "Yeah. Dad hated driving in that." He stands, slinging the duffel over his shoulder. "So, boy scout. Where to?"

Sam glares at him over his shoulder. "You're Mr. Man Vs. Wild. Why don't _you_ know?"

Dean snorts. "Whatever." He picks up the flashlight, shining it down the tunnel in front of them. "Only way to go right now is through. And hopefully it will all be going downhill and we won't have too many choices to make."

"And no collapses."

Dean frowns. "Why do you think this place is abandoned?"

"Besides the flooding problem? Who knows?"

Dean shoulders the duffel, nudging Sam's shoulder as he passes and starts down the tunnel. "Let's go, Sammy. We have a lot of ground to cover."

Sam sighs. "It's _Sam_."

"Whatever, Sammy."

Sam doesn't push it, just following his brother into the dark pit ahead. It seems less daunting than it would if he were alone though. So he's grateful he's with Dean, even if his brother _does_ get on his nerves. He frowns when he notices his brother leaning over a little to the side. "What's wrong?"

Dean looks over his shoulder, trying for innocent. "What?"

Sam huffs. "I'm not blind. Are you okay? You held on to me for a long time back there." He hesitates only a little before reaching forward and touching Dean's arm in worry. "Is your shoulder hurt?"

"Nah." He grins. "You're not quite that heavy yet."

Sam narrows his eyes, then suddenly reaches out to poke his brother in the side.

"Ow! Geeze! What-?"

"I knew it. Your side hurts from the stretch. Are your muscles sore? Do they feel ripped? Do you need me to carry the bag?"

Dean sighs, stopping to look down at his brother. "I'm alright, Sam. Okay? Sure, I'm a little sore, but I'll be fine. Alright?"

Sam sighs, glaring. "Fine. But if it gets worse, let me carry the bag. Okay?"

Dean starts off again, rolling his eyes. "Yes, _Dad_."

The going is slow for a while. Well… not so much slow as it is just boringly steady. Dean turns the flashlight on every once in a while to make sure they aren't going to walk off a sudden cliff or something, but he tries to save battery as much as possible. Who knows how long they'll be down here.

Eventually, during one of the dark periods, Sam speaks up. "Dean?" He curses the timid sound of his voice.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for not letting me fall."

Dean stops walking then, not turning the flashlight on, and Sam almost regrets talking. Then, his brother does something that shocks him into freezing. He voluntarily pulls him into his arms. "Of course."

Sam hugs him back just as tight then, burying his face in his brother's bare chest for a few seconds. Skin to skin, it's extra reassurance that Dean is still alive. Warm and breathing. "I'm glad I'm not alone."

Dean chuckles above him. "Well you're never getting rid of me, kiddo. So you'll never be alone." They stand there for a few more seconds before Dean puts his hands, one still holding the flashlight, on Sam's shoulders and pushes him back. Turning on the flashlight, he shines it ahead of them before looking down at Sam and giving him one of his patented smirks. "Now, enough of the chick-flicks. Let's get going."

Sam nods, following his brother and the light. Which are pretty much the same thing if he stops to think about it. He doesn't. Never really wants to focus on how much he needs his brother. He knows it's unhealthy. But… when have they ever matched everyone else's 'healthy', 'normal', and 'sane'?

"So… this is fun."

Sam laughs at his brother's attempt to lighten the mood.

Dean grins to himself, glad he got a real laugh out of his brother. "I'm sure this isn't what Dad pictured when he said we'd be roughing it while hunting the wendigo."

Sam chuckles. "I'm sure. But hey, we are learning. We've learned I can hold my breath longer, you have amazing stretching abilities, and if I'm ever in danger of falling off a cliff I can always make sure you're there with me."

Dean huffs.

Sam can almost see him rolling his eyes. "So how much food do we have?"

Dean groans. "Don't bring up food yet."

Sam grins. "Well with the way _you_ eat…"

"We should be fine to make it last two days. It shouldn't take longer than that to make it out of here or someone to find us."

Sam bites his lip at that. Two days of being in the dark. Thank God he's not alone. "Two days, huh? Man. What I wouldn't give for a map of this place."

"Yeah, me too. But we'll make do. Alright? Put that geekboy mind of yours to use."

"Jerk."

Dean chuckles. "Bitch. Now..." he wiggles the flashlight to get Sam's attention, "it's time to problem solve problem number one."

Sam gapes at the hole in the ground of the tunnel in front of them. "Aren't there supposed to be railway lines in old coal mines?"

Dean sighs. "I guess we haven't made it to those yet. In the meantime… we have this."

'This' happens to be a hole in the tunnel they're in, all the way through to the one below which most likely connects to the one they swam through before climbing out, seeing as how it's filled with black, shiny water.

Dean looks around, eying the support beams that line the tunnel in areas. He takes off John's bag. "Let's see what's in Dad's magic bag."

Sam kneels next to him, moving the clothes before rifling through the mostly dry contents as his brother holds the light. He notes the two flare guns left inside. The bags of food. A couple handguns and a sawed off. Some knives. A few medical supplies. A short roll if string that wouldn't have helped them earlier but might help later. A metal container with matches, an extra lighter, lighter fluid, and even a little thing of salt. Gloves their dad usually uses in case he has to touch something and not leave evidence. One extra jacket that was wrapped around most of it to protect it from any water that got in. And a few extra pairs of socks. It's an army thing.

Sam sighs. "We were hunting a wendigo. Not setting out to live in the woods."

Dean hums in agreement. "Well now let's see what's down there."

Sam stares. "What?"

"You heard me." He goes over to the hole in the ground, taking the flashlight out of the plastic bag with the sandwich for maximum distance and kneels at the edge. Then, seems to think for a minute before turning. "Do you trust me?"

Sam is still staring in shock. "You want to dangle me over the edge there?"

Dean looks almost guilty. "Not so much that I 'want' to. I just think we need to see what's the best way to go. Before we start trying to get across here anyway."

Sam sighs. His brother is right of course. He trudges over. "Don't drop me."

Dean looks hurt. "I didn't before, did I?"

Sam winces, feeling guilty this time. "Sorry. You're right. And what kind of question was that? Of course I trust you."

Dean snorts. "Whatever. Either way, I'm not going to drop you."

"I know." He kneels down at the edge of the hole, waiting until his brother has a hand around his belt again and the other around his wrist. He twists his arm back until he can lean over the hole with Dean holding him up by his wrist and belt. He has the flashlight in his free arm. "Go ahead. Slowly."

"I've gotchya, Sammy. Just look down there and see if you can see land. If not, our best bet is to stay up here and find a way down later." He carefully lets his arms straighten as his brother leans headfirst down into the hole.

Shining the flashlight down into the dark abyss, Sam keeps himself from doubting his brother. Dean's never let him fall before. He's not going to now. His brother has always been strong enough to hold him. He focuses on the task at hand, looking for any sign of land in the tunnel below them. Nothing. It's all water, reflecting the light enough to see even farther back when he tilts the flashlight more. Still nothing. "Pull me up." He winces as his brother pulls him back up, shoulder being pulled in a weird angle.

"Sorry," Dean murmurs, absently massaging the muscles for a few seconds. "Anything?"

Sam shakes his head. "We'd be better off to see if we can get across and stay on dry land. Even though we need to go _down_ the mountain, now is not the best time to get to the lower tunnels."

Dean nods. "Alright. Then let's see how we're going to do that."

"Exactly. You have any ideas?"

Dean scoffs. "Of course I do." Reaching in and pulling out the longer knives and the gloves, he gives Sam a wry grin. "We'll have to make do with what we have." He pulls on the gloves, flexing his fingers and picking up the two knives before testing the grip on them.

Sam tilts his head. "What are you doing?"

"Well… there's only one option here." He looks over at Sam. "And I'm going to test it first. If it holds me, you'll do just fine."

"Dean…"

"It'll be fine."

"But…"

"Sam." Dean glares down at him.

Sam pulls on the full force of the puppy eyes now, taking a shaky breath now that he has his brother's attention. "We can't afford to make mistakes down here," he murmurs. "We don't have anyone to help us. No hospitals. No Dad. Nothing. And… you can't leave me alone down here."

A sharp intake of breath, then Dean walks back to Sam. He drops the knives on the ground to grip his brother's shoulders. "I'm not going to leave you alone. You hear me? I can be smart about this. And I'm going to."

"What are you going to do?" Sam asks warily.

Dean pats his shoulder and leans down to pick up the knives again before walking over to the wall to test them. "I'm going to see how well we do pretending to be ninjas." He winks over his shoulder. He stays on safe land, jumping up to sink the knife into the wall. He grunts from the new pull on his shoulder, but the wall holds him. With the knife sunk in flat-ways, it doesn't slide down. He sinks the other knife in. Does a pull up. They hold. He yanks one out, reaching out to the side to sink it back in again. Still good.

Sam watches, biting his lip. "That's your plan?"

Dean yanks both knives back at the same time, dropping back to the floor and turns to him. "It's all I've got. And it should hold us. Just make sure you test each hold before you let it hold your weight. Okay?"

Sam resigns to the fact that there's no other way around this. And his brother is a genius. "Okay." He holds out his hands.

Dean scowls. "I told you I'm going first. To make sure it's safe." He packs up the rest of the bag, slinging it over his head and shoulder and going to the wall. He looks down into the black water beneath them. "Well at least I won't die if I fall."

Sam glares at him, picking up the flashlight and shining it ahead of his brother. "Just be careful. We don't have any way of fishing you out. And I don't even want to think of what would happen if that were a dead end down there."

Dean rolls his eyes, turning back to the wall. "Relax. It'll be fine." He sinks his first knife into the wall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Took forever to get this up just cause being an art major is very time consuming. Hope it's worth the wait. :)  
**

**Ch. 3**

It's so much harder than it would have been if he had something on his feet to go into the wall too. Like… some ninja thing he's seen before. But he doesn't have that. The two knives in his hands are his only hope on getting across. It's a good thing their dad trains them so hard. Dean would have had a lot more trouble with this otherwise with the bag on his back.

He sinks the blades in so that they're flat, unable to slice down through the wall. He grunts when he sinks his first knife into the wall for a second time, farther out as he reaches towards the safe ground on the other side. His muscles tremble and bulge from the effort. He pulls out the second knife, letting himself swing over a little bit before plunging it back into the wall about a foot away from the other one. Then he hangs there for a second.

"Dean?"

"It's alright, Sam. I'm just making sure this wall is strong enough. If it holds me, it'll hold you." He pulls out the first knife, throwing his arm out towards land and sinking it back into the wall with another grunt.

Sam, from his side of the great divide, watches in both fear and apprehension. He watches his brother's arms tremble from the strain they're being put through. Without his shirt, which is still hanging over the bag on his back to dry, Sam can see his brother's muscles move beneath his skin. He starts to doubt he can do this. There's no way he's as strong as his brother.

Dean keeps going. By the light of the flashlight, he can see he's about halfway. Sam moves the light along with him, letting him see the wall. He can see how the tunnels have survived this long. The ground is mostly clay. Dried out here, it helps in holding him up with the mixture of rocks between. So they haven't made it to the coal part of the mine yet.

It's mostly smooth going all the way across. When he's almost to the end, the knife seems to drag down in the wall before getting a stronger hold. Dean frowns, yanking down on it a few times to make sure it'll hold his weight before pulling out the other knife and bringing it back in to imbed in the wall in front of him. Then he reaches out one more time.

Sam lets out a sigh of relief when Dean lifts a foot to touch the ground in the other side. He sees his brother test it out, making sure the edge will hold before pulling himself up and pulling the knives out of the wall.

Dean aims his signature grin across the divide to his brother. "See. No problem."

Sam bites his lip.

Dean's smirk falters. "What?"

"For you."

Dean tilts his head before comprehension dawns on his features. Then he shakes his head. "Sam, you're growing. Of course your muscles aren't going to be as big. With the rate your limbs are growing, your muscles only have time to get _long_. But I know you have them. You aren't easy to take down when we spar."

Sam shrugs, looking down to fiddle with the flashlight in his hands. "Still…"

Dean sighs, taking the gloves off and stuffing one inside the other before throwing them over. Then he does the same with each knife, making sure to throw them way over to the side away from Sam. "Toss me the flashlight Sammy."

Sam glares, but does so. "It's Sam."

Dean huffs. "Out of all the things that could matter right now…"

Sam only rolls his eyes to himself as he goes over to where his brother threw the knives and the wad of gloves. Dean shines the flashlight on him while he pulls them on, taking a knife in each hand and testing the grip.

"Those gloves won't slip a bit," Dean tells him. "They'll hold the handle nice and tight. Just make sure to sink the knife _down_ and in. It'll make it more like a hook than a peg."

Sam nods, going over to the wall and looking at it with trepidation.

"You can do it, Sammy. I've seen you climb before. This is no different. Just over instead of up."

Sam lets out a breath, sinking one knife into the wall to hold on to as he reaches out over the hole to sink the other one in. Then he lifts his feet to hang. With a shaky breath, he pulls the first knife out and lets himself swing over to dangle over the hole before he sinks it back into the wall next to the other one.

"Just like that. See. You can do this."

His brother's praise has always given Sam the confidence he needs to succeed. Ever since he was little, it was always 'Good job, Sammy' or 'Of course you can do it, Sammy'. He taught Sam to ride a bike for the first time. He taught him how to drive on a stretch of dirt road when he was thirteen. Never even seemed too worried about the impala. Because he had such confidence that his brother would do awesome.

Sam lets himself hang for a bit when he's almost halfway.

"You alright?" Dean asks. He doesn't sound worried. More like coaching.

Sam nods before pulling himself back up and pulling a knife out of the wall. "How did you do this with your hurt shoulders?" he huffs.

Dean chuckles. "It hurt. But they're already going to stiff and numb rather than the sharp pain they were before."

"Hmm." Sam doesn't try to talk, trying too hard to eye his next connection point. The dirt seems soft here.

"Easy, Sammy. Baby steps. No hurry."

"Easy for you to say," Sam replies through gritted teeth as he sinks a knife into the wall. "I'm out here hanging over the abyss."

Dean chuckles. It's quiet for a minute. Then, "Speaking of steps, you now your first steps were towards me?"

Sam lets himself rest. "Really?"

Dean chuckles. "Yeah. You had pulled yourself up with a chair in the hotel we were staying at. I saw you and called to you. Dad was closer. On the other side of the table maybe four feet away. But you didn't even hesitate as you turned and came towards me."

Sam smiles to himself. It's not like his brother to bring things up like this that could easily get chick-flicky. But maybe the darkness is making him brave or he's trying to keep Sam's mind off of how tired he is. Whatever the reason, Sam takes advantage of his brother opening up. "Did I make it?"

Dean snorts. "No. You fell after two steps. But after that, you were determined. Before long you were my new shadow."

Sam chuckles to himself. Then looks over. He's surprised to see he's only a few feet from the edge.

Sam can hear the grin in Dean's voice when he talks. "See. You're almost here. You can do it, bro."

Sam keeps going. When he gets to the same spot Dean almost slid down through the wall, he does so too. Freezing in alarm, he barely holds in what could have been an undignified squeak. "Dean."

"Easy, Sammy." He's standing at the edge, one arm outstretched as if he could steady Sam from where he's standing.

Sam has his eyes squeezed closed, hands reflexively gripping the knife handles. Everything steadies for a minute. Slowly he looks over to Dean.

Dean has pointed the flashlight up so the light can shine on both of their faces. His eyes lock with Sam's. "Easy. You're alright. It's just soft there. Try a different spot."

Sam can't hold back a fearful whine in the back of his throat. "What if I fall?"

"You aren't going to fall, Sam."

"What if I do? You won't be able to get me out. I'm gonna fall."

"Sam."

It takes him a few frantic breaths, but he finally calms down.

"Now. Just find a better spot. Reach out a little farther."

"I… I can't."

"Yes you can. Just pull it out real quick and throw your arm out to reach a little farther. The wall is tougher over here."

Sam sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, using the pain to distract him for a minute. Taking a few breaths through his nose, he finally tenses.

"That's it. Ready? Go."

And Sam does. Yanks the knife out and sinks it back in so quick his body doesn't even have enough time to move down. Then he does it again with the other one. He just wants to be done. Wants to be safe. Next to Dean.

"That's my boy. Almost there." Dean reaches out, grin pulling at his lips as Sam reaches out one more time and swings close enough for him to grab his belt yet again and yank him over to the safe ground.

Sam pulls the knives out, letting his brother pull him to safety when he feels the yank on his belt. He immediately drops them to the ground, stumbling the few feet his brother pulls him away from the edge to practically fall into his brother's arms. Then he hugs him tightly, not letting go for a long minute.

"Hey. You're alright." Dean chuckles. "It's over now. You're okay."

Sam nods, his frantic breathing slowly evening out before he lets go of his brother and steps back.

Dean claps him on the shoulder, gripping it in a congratulatory squeeze. "You ready to keep going?" He doesn't tease his brother. Doesn't think any of this is funny. Sam is obviously shaken up. And why wouldn't he be? They're alone down here. If something happens that they can't fix… He stops that train of thought.

"Yeah. Let's just keep going." Gathering up their things and feeling their shirts to find that they're only a little bit dryer and ridiculously cold, they keep moving.

It doesn't take long for Dean to notice how quiet Sam is. "You alright?"

"Fine."

A sigh. "Sammy, none of this is fine."

Sam snorts. It's quiet for a while. Then, "Just wondering how I'm ever going to make it out of here."

Dean frowns. "Huh?"

"I'm not like you. Or Dad. I'm not a hunter. I just… I don't think I'm going to make it out of here."

Dean stops again, turning to grab Sam by the tops of his arms. "Don't you say that."

Even in the dark, Sam can tell his brother is wearing the disapproving frown he always gets whenever Sam says he can't do something. "Let's face it-"

"Shut up, Sam." The sharpness in the tone shocks the younger Winchester into silence. Dean continues. "You may not be a hunter yet. You don't like to kill things. You want to study or read and go to school. You don't want to follow orders. But you _are_ a survivor. Don't you ever doubt that."

Sam frowns to himself. "I haven't survived anything, Dean."

"You survived the fire in your nursery. You survived an army of bullies at almost every school we stopped at. You survived pneumonia at ten. You survived that werewolf at thirteen and a ghoul last year. You can survive this. This is nothing."

Sam huffs, letting himself smile a little. "I survived all of those because of you or dad. Except for a few of those bullies maybe."

Dean grips his arms. "You fought off that werewolf until me and dad could get to you after we found out it doubled back to our hotel. You killed that ghoul when it came after you when we killed its mate. You survive, Sam. You're strong." He starts walking again, slinging his arm over his brother's shoulders and pulling him along. "This is a cakewalk."

Sam doesn't argue, but relaxes under his brother's arm. Nothing bad has ever happened to him when his brother is around. Dean always keeps him safe.

"Speaking of that ghoul, how's your arm?"

It had been a nasty break. Bone through the skin and all. He thought at one point he was going to pass out and the ghoul was going to eat him. That's probably what would have happened if his brother hadn't gotten there just in time, John hot on his heels. The bone took a while to heal, and sometimes still has a twinge in it every once in a while. But it's getting better. "It's alright. Nothing hurts yet."

Dean chuckles. "I don't like that word."

Sam grins to himself. It disappears though when he realizes the area suddenly feels a lot smaller. "Dean."

Dean turns on the flashlight, the light dimmer than before. Of course it is. But they can still see that the walls are closer on either side.

Sam reaches up to grip the arm that's still around his shoulders, feeling his heart rate pick up. "It's getting smaller."

Dean curses, turning off the flashlight and sliding it into his pocket. "Easy, Sam. Breathe." He puts a hand on his brother's chest, the other moving down to rest on his back. He takes deep breaths himself, making them obvious enough for his brother to still follow in the dark. He knows about his brother's recent aversion to tight spaces. He just… hadn't thought about it.

Sam calms himself quickly, keeping a hand closed around Dean's wrist. "I'm fine. Just… just had it all sink in at once."

And Dean can sympathize with that. Your body realizing all at once that it's under ground and in a small, crushing space… Not fun. "You okay to go on?"

Sam huffs out a laugh. "Kind of have to be. No way to go but forward. Dad's heading down the mountain. We need to keep going so we're closer to the search crew ourselves."

Dean pats his shoulder, keeping the flashlight off as they start forward again. "Just relax. I'm here. Let your hand drag along the wall. Let me know if you feel anything that might be helpful."

They walk. Every once in a while Dean turns the flashlight back on to see what's around them. He always asks Sam if he's okay first. The problem with closed spaces came from a ghost that had locked Sam in a tiny closet earlier this year. His second real hunt that he was taken on. It wasn't a good experience and if Dean never sees that look of complete terror on his brother's face ever again, he'll die happy. Dean wishes it had been a creature he could kill with a vengeance, not just some ghost.

Eventually, the tunnel does get smaller. Dean keeps his arm around his brother's shoulders until it gets small enough that they have to go single file. Even then, he keeps one slung around his brother's chest. They've always gone by touch. This is no different. When Sam's hand reaches up to wrap around his wrist, he knows to freeze immediately.

"Just… give me a minute."

Dean does. Pulls his little brother back against him and rests his head on top of Sam's. He realizes for the first time that his chin has to tilt up to rest on it now. Little brother isn't going to stay 'little' for too long. "You're alright. This isn't like last time. You aren't alone. I'm here with you. Okay? And you have total control. We can go back if you want. We aren't trapped. This has a way through. I can feel it through the air."

Sam breathes. "Walk with me."

Dean does. No questions asked as his brother starts slowly forward, the walls getting close enough to be a constant rub on Dean's shoulders. He keeps step behind Sam. It's a little awkward. Small, hesitant steps. But it makes Sam feel safer. And Dean takes the security of the darkness to talk about what happened. "You never told me."

He doesn't need to say more. Sam always knows what he's saying. "Didn't want to talk about it," he murmurs. "Didn't like it."

"It's still affecting you," Dean murmurs. "You should let me help sort it out. I know how it is the first few times you feel like you're going to die."

Sam grimaces to himself, letting a second of contempt for his dad wash over him. For the lives they live. He pushes it away. It's him and Dean here. "I was trapped. In a tiny closet. Not much to tell."

"Being trapped anywhere isn't a picnic, Sam."

They have to turn a little sideways to get through the tunnel now. Sam starts to breathe a little faster when he feels his brother's arm slide over his shoulder with the new position and he fears not feeling that his brother is with him. But the hand stops at his shoulder, moving to a place even more intimate for anyone who lives their lives. It curls just lightly around his throat, thumb resting on his pulse to no doubt keep track of his brother's panic with his heart rate. There's only two people in the world that Sam would ever let get a hand around his throat. But with Dean… it's more of a comfort than anything.

"I'm right here." Of course Dean knew. "Talk to me."

"It felt like forever," he starts softly. "How long was it really?"

Dean sighs. "Ten hours and three minutes."

Of course he had it down to the minutes. Probably the seconds too. "It felt like longer. The longer I was there, the smaller it felt. And the more it got harder to breathe."

"We looked the entire time, Sammy," Dean promises, hand flexing the tinniest bit where it rested where his neck met shoulder. "I don't know why everything we hunt targets you, but I'm always looking."

"I know." It's quiet for a while. Then, "I was fine at first. Figured it was better than anywhere else it could have trapped me. But as I said. The longer I was there, the more I thought you wouldn't find me." There's a second of silence where Dean can literally hear his brother realizing something. "How _did_ you find me?'

Dean takes a breath. Sam realizes immediately that this is Dean trying to say something he'd consider chick-flicky. "I was frantic to find you," he confesses. "Couldn't believe the bitch had gotten you when you were right next to me."

"Wasn't your fault Dean," he huffs. He can feel Dean's answering shrug.

"It was dumb luck really. As much as I hate that." He lets out a self-depreciating laugh. "I was looking through the house as dad was digging her up. Right after dad burned her bones the door to the closet you were in shook. Just a little. Like her power suddenly left it. I think she was silencing your screams. Because we never heard you."

Sam stops walking now, letting out a shuddering breath. "I screamed for a long time. Would have went longer if I hadn't thought of how I was using up more air by doing that."

Dean grits his teeth, pulling Sam closer to him in a one-armed hug. "God, you're such a geek." It's said lovingly. Gratefully. Proudly. He knows his little brother's quick thinking probably saved his own life. "You were breathing so shallowly when I found you I thought you were dead," he breathes. "Then you woke up with a jerk and a look in your eyes…" he trails off, shaking his head. "I never want to see that look on your face again."

Sam lets his head fall over to rest on Dean's shoulder as they just stand there for a few minutes. "You always save me."

Dean has the sudden urge to turn his head a little more and kiss the top of Sam's. But he hasn't done that since the kid was ten. And he's fifteen now. That would be weird. "C'mon. We need to keep moving."


	4. Chapter 4

**I am overwhelmed by the response to this story. Thank you guys. :) School continues to be busy, but I always find time to write. Hope you all enjoy the new chapter.  
**

**Ch. 4**

It seems to take forever to get through the small tunnel. Probably longer than it is because Sam is trying not to panic and Dean is ever aware of Sam trying not to panic. Eventually though, it starts to widen. Sam's sigh of relief is in time with Dean's.

As the tunnel widens, Dean keeps his hand around Sam's wrist, both of them separating as much as possible in order to reach their respective sides of the wall to see just how much it widens. They both stop walking at the same time, hands reaching the end of the tunnel to curve around the edge.

"I think it opens up here," Dean offers.

Sam gently pulls his hand from his brother's so Dean could pull out the flashlight. He breathes a sigh of relief when the light turns on to show them an open cavern. And the very first rail car. Sam looks to Dean with a smile. "Finally. Somewhere we can actually follow out."

Dean huffs. "I hope so. But there could easily be so many ways to get lost."

Sam's smile drops off his face. "That's true."

"Hey." Dean nudges him with his hand. "It's still better than feeling like we're totally lost, huh?" He desperately tries to get that smile back. Smiling Sam is always better than Sad Sam. When Sam's answering smile is small and soft, he puts an arm around his shoulders again and pulls him along.

It's obvious that the tunnel they just came through was new. Tools to continue the railway are laying around. Like they were just abandoned in a hurry. Both notice. Neither comment. Starting down the tunnel, they both start looking for signs of wear. More use of the tunnel probably means more chances for collapses or weaknesses.

For a long while, it's the single tunnel. Their feet follow the tracks, opting to leave the flashlight off for a bit when they conclude the tunnel looks okay. For kids who have grown up being taught to be afraid of the dark, it's oddly comforting to have the flashlight off. Something about not being able to see the complete emptiness that waits ahead of them. Just excepting the immediate darkness and not thinking of the rest.

Eventually though, it has to get difficult. They find the first intersection with a sudden 'Oof' and collapse of Dean.

Before Sam can panic, Dean has flicked the button on the flashlight. When light floods the area, Sam stares wide eyed at the sight that greets him. "What happened?"

Dean looks up from where he's practically face planted onto the ground, a scowl on his face. Pushing himself to his feet, he shines the flashlight down at a discarded shovel. "I tripped," he grumbles.

Sam snickers, grin growing wider against his control when Dean glares over at him. "You tripped? Oh wise one who will lead us out of here?"

Dean scowls, reaching over to shove Sam's head. "Shut up."

Sam stumbles to the side, still laughing when he freezes.

Dean looks ahead of them and sighs.

Two tunnels. Which one to take…

"Do you think they go to the same place?"

Sam shakes his head. "Not necessarily. Mines can be pretty elaborate in how they branch out. The tunnels follow the findings of the coal or whatever they're mining. If they meet up, that's a coincidence. Like right here. That's why the area we just came through was so big. There probably was a lot of coal there."

Dean hums in thought. "So which way do you suggest?"

Sam sighs. "How would I know, Dean?"

It's silent for a second. Then, "We could flip a coin? Which direction to take. If it dead ends or whatever, we'll come back. Fair?"

Sam glares. "We're putting our lives on the line of a coin flip?"

"You have any other ideas?"

Sam sadly shakes his head.

Dean digs a nickel out of his pocket. "Man. I think I lost the rest of my change back there," he pouts.

Sam swipes the nickel from his hand, rolling his eyes. "Right. We definitely need change down here." He flips the coin.

Dean huffs indignantly. "It was enough for a soda at most pop machines. That's one less drink that I'll have in my life now."

"Wow," Sam comments in disbelief at Dean's overwhelming disappointment at losing his quarters. He reaches down to lift the coin.

"Which way won?" Dean asks, changing the subject.

"The left one."

"Alright. Let's go then."

This tunnel seems to be staying okay as they walk. There are tracks, so it was often used. They going is steady. No new tunnels for a while. Eventually though, they do get to an area where a partial collapse had happened. They both stop before the pile of dirt, rocks, and beams. Dean moves the flashlight up to the top, finding an area that the light shines partially through to show that the cave-in doesn't reach the top.

"So… do you wanna go back or climb through?" Dean asks. Leaves it up to Sam to decide if he can handle another tight space.

Sam bites his lip.

"We'll do whatever you choose," Dean sooths, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam sighs. "I hate it when you do that."

Dean chuckles. "Tell you what. We can try the other tunnel. Just see where it goes. If it dead ends or is caved in or whatever, we'll come back here."

Sam shakes his head with another sigh. "That's totally unreasonable and would take too long. I can try at least."

Dean squeezes his shoulder. "You sure?"

Sam nods. "Yeah. Let me just try."

The climb up the mound of dirt and debris isn't too hard. They both slide a little, Dean more than Sam just because Sam had smoothed it out first when he slid. Eventually Sam reaches the top. He looks into the dark tunnel and tries to keep his breathing even. Feeling a tap on his leg, he looks down to Dean handing him the flashlight. He takes it and shines it through the hole.

"How thick is the cave in?" Dean asks below him.

Sam huffs at himself. "Not that far. Maybe twenty feet." He climbs up to hold himself at the edge of the short tunnel to look through better. "Then it looks clear." He makes no move to go through.

"You alright?" There's that tap on his leg again. But it stays there this time. Reassuring grip of Dean's hand on his ankle.

Sam nods once. "I'm going through." He manages to keep his voice steady, but his breathing is picking up.

"I'm right here. Okay? If you need anything I'm here."

Sam smiles softly to himself. "I know." He turns the flashlight off. "I'm gonna see if this helps."

"Okay. Go ahead. I'll keep my hand on your ankle. You want me to keep talking to you?"

"Yeah. That'd be great." He pulls himself up, sliding his body into the tunnel. True to his word, Dean pulls himself up with his remaining hand. The hand on Sam's ankle never loosens but it also never pulls. Dean keeps it reassuring, not restricting. Pulling himself up with just his other arm.

Dean keeps talking. "You know what this reminds me of?"

"What?"

"That field trip. When I was in fourth grade. You remember?"

Despite himself, Sam smiles a little. "You dragged me into your class at the end of the day that she had passed out the permission slips and begged her that you could bring me."

Dean chuckles. "That I did. So you remember?"

Sam pulls himself forward, flinching when he feels the tunnel a little smaller. Something gets caught on his pants. He freezes.

"Easy. I'm right here." The hand squeezes his ankle once. "You alright?"

Sam takes a few breathes. Then starts forward again. "Yeah. Careful. Something pulled on my jeans. May be sharp."

"Okay."

"And yeah, I remember. I may have only been five, but you begged her for a half hour Dean. And she agreed as long as dad signed a permission slip for me too. Probably because it was such a small school, one more kid wouldn't hurt."

"I'm just smooth, Sammy."

Sam snorts. "Sure."

"But it was to that museum. And the kid's center had those tunnels like a cave. Remember? And we played in there forever."

Sam keeps shuffling forward, almost totally on his belly now. He feels himself trying to panic, but the good memory Dean is dragging up overpowers the bad. "Yeah. That was fun. I was so happy that you had taken me."

Dean shrugs behind him. "I didn't know when else you would have had a chance to go on a field trip. Wanted to make sure you were able to do something cool for once."

Sam smiles to himself. Dean has always thought of him. Even when they were so young. "Thanks, Dean. I'm not sure I ever said that."

It's quiet for a few seconds. Then Dean huffs. "No turning this into a chick-flick, Sammy." He moves forward. "Aw, shit!"

Sam freezes in panic. "What?"

Dean is huffing behind him, letting out a groan. "Something got me."

"What?!"

"Easy, Sammy. Just a scratch."

It's too late though. In wanting to turn around and check on his brother, he's reminded of how trapped he is. He can't turn around. Can't move back because his brother is there. Can only move forward. And that's the smallest part of the tunnel. "Dean."

Hearing the choked off sound of Sam's voice, Dean inhales sharply and surges forward as much as he can in the small space and laying his arm against Sam's leg. "Sammy. Calm down. It's okay. It's just us here. You aren't rapped. Go on ahead. Okay? I'm right behind you. Just keep moving."

Sam's hyperventilating now, choking back the cries that are trying to rip from his throat in his panic. It's like he's trapped in that closet again. Not knowing if he'll ever be found. If he'll ever get out. "Dean."

"Sammy. I need you to listen to me. I'm right here. Okay?"

"It's too small. I can't breathe."

"Yes you can. You aren't in that closet, Sam. There's plenty of air here. Right? Plenty of room for air in this tunnel. Just breathe." Dean gets his hand up to squeeze Sam's side in reassurance. "I'm right behind you. Just move forward. Okay?"

Unable to talk as he tries to pull air into his protesting lungs, Sam just nods and moves forward. Two scoots later and he stops, letting out a whine. He's flat on his stomach now. They're to the smallest part of the tunnel.

"Sam. Listen to me. We're almost there. Just this one last squeeze. You with me?"

"Dean. I can't-"

"Yes you can. Just a little more. It'll be smaller for me than it is for you. So I need you to hurry, okay. I don't want to get stuck. I'll have to keep moving in order to get through. If I stop, I'll probably get stuck for a while."

With that thought, Sam suddenly realizes something. If this is what the tunnel feels like to him, then it must be even more uncomfortable for Dean. He must feel worse right now. He starts moving forward, hooking his hands over the edge of the end and pulling himself out with a choked sound as it messes with his already panicking head. It's like being up against the hard walls of that closet again. Cramped and trapped with air running out.

The slide down that side of the cave-in is less than graceful. At the bottom, all he can do is pull air into his lungs, a few stray tears and remaining… almost sobs making their way out.

After a few grunts and groans, Dean suddenly slides to the bottom and immediately goes over to pull his brother into his arms. "Sammy. C'mere, Sammy."

Sam lets himself be pulled into his brother's arms, burying his face in his neck and breathing in the familiar smell. Even without his leather jacket on today, Dean still manages to smell like it. Along with gunpowder, and that smell that's always been unmistakably 'Dean'. Home. He wraps his arms around his brother's neck, finally feeling safe enough to start calming his racing heart.

"That's it. I'm here. I'm here." Dean rocks him a little bit, running his fingers through his hair. Without thought, he turns his face to kiss the top of his brother's head. "I'm right here. You're alright little brother."

"God, I'm sorry," Sam mumbles, wiping the back of his hand over his nose.

"Hey. It's alright. We'll get through this, okay? I'll be right here every step of the way. If you need anything, just ask."

"I know," Sam murmurs, turning his face more into his brother's neck. Takes in a deep breath of his brother's scent. Then shivers.

"You want your shirt back? It should be dry by now."

"Yeah." He sits up, but doesn't get far. One of Dean's arms doesn't move from where it's around his shoulders, keeping him sitting practically in his brother's lap.

Dean digs through the bag where it had rolled down after him and landed only a foot away. He pulls out Sam's shirt, pulling it over his brother's head when he feels that it's dry.

Sam huffs, but let's his brother help him. Knows it won't do any good to argue when Dean turns to 'mother hen' mode. Then just sits and waits as Dean pulls on his own shirt. "How'd you get the bag through there?"

"Pulled it behind me," Dean answers.

"Ah." Sam picks up the flashlight where it's still laying next to them and casting a slight glow on the surrounding area. He looks at the beam. "Is this dimmer, or is it just me?"

Dean snorts. "It's probably been doing that all day or however long we've been down here. It's just so dark, it's probably been hard to tell the difference. But I do know that there weren't new batteries in it."

Sam sighs. "Great."

"We'll be fine. You ready to keep moving?"

"I guess so."

They gather their things up, shining the flashlight down the tunnel before turning it off again. Then they keep going.

A minute later, Sam's stomach growls.

Dean sighs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the continued following guys. :) **

**Ch. 5**

The farther down this tunnel they go, the more Sam is sure this will at least take them in the right direction to get out of here. The railway lines keep going, shovels and carts are left around. This tunnel was obviously used. They just hope it doesn't come to a dead end.

After an hour of Sam's stomach continuously growling, Dean finally decides to take a break. "Geeze, you'd think we never feed you," he grumbles as they sit.

Sam huffs. "Sorry. I'm always hungry."

"And you have those arms and legs that just keep growing, yet you never eat any good food. That's why."

Sam rolls his eyes to himself in the dark. "I eat good food."

"Obviously not food that sticks to your bones."

"Shut up and get the food out."

"You better watch yourself, bitch. You won't _get _any food." He turns on the flashlight, holding the end with his mouth as he looks through the bag.

"Like you'd do that to me."

"U wever wo."

"Don't talk with your mouth full of flashlight. Makes you sound even more unintelligent." Sam grins when Dean looks up with a glare.

Dean takes out one of the sandwiches, throwing it at Sam's face.

Sam laughs, digging in right away.

"Make it last," Dean grunts, mouth now empty of flashlight. "We only have one more each. And like… two bags of chips."

Sam sighs. "Great."

They use this time as a short break, starting off again after about fifteen minutes, half a sandwich each left in their hand to snack on as they go. The tunnel they're in overlaps with the one below with water in it again, a small gap where the ground fell through showing them.

Sam frowns. "I wonder if it's like an underground river in the mountain. May have caused the instability that made this place start caving in."

"In that case I hope we don't find a place where it makes it up here."

Sam snorts. "That would be our luck."

"Ever the optimist."

"Hey. Usually it's you that's being the downer."

"Whatever."

They're both quiet for a while. Content to just keep walking. Until one time Dean turns the flashlight on and it's just a tiny, dim circle.

Dean sighs, turning it back off. "Let's save it for when it's really important."

Sam nods to himself. "That would be smart. Now we have to be extra careful to not fall into a hole."

"Don't worry. We'll just take it slow. "Okay?" Dean sets the bag down to slide the flashlight into it, feeling his jacket before pulling it on. "Jackets are still a little damp, but it's better than nothing. Do you want yours?"

"Yeah, sure." Sam pulls on his own jacket, reaching out to take a handful of the back of Dean's to hold onto after.

Dean doesn't say anything about it. Knows it's a security thing. Likes it himself. He can feel the slight tug and know his brother is there. Slinging the bag over his shoulder again, they keep walking, slower this time. The dark is a little more haunting when you know you won't have light for too much longer.

"Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me the truth. How do you think we'll do?"

It's quiet for a long time. But Sam is patient. And Dean knows there's no getting out of this. As they walk, Dean takes the time to really think about his answer. "It really depends on these tunnels, Sam. If we end up stuck here and have to go around. If they take us in the right direction. How far away we are. I honestly don't know."

"You think it will be before we starve?"

"Sam, you know it takes a while to starve."

"Yeah but… if we get stuck. You think they'll be able to get to us?"

Dean stops walking, sighing. "Sam…"

"I just… I'm scared, De."

Dean runs a hand down his face in the dark. Sam admitting he's scared is getting few and far between as he gets older. Makes him hate it more every time. He turns to put his hands on Sam's shoulders to establish a connection in the dark. "Sammy. I'm gonna get you out of here. You hear me? If we end up stuck and have to wait for someone to find us, I'll make sure you don't starve."

"How?" The sarcasm is evident.

"You can eat me?"

"Ew, Dean! Gross!" He shoves his laughing brother away.

Dean full on belly laughs, bending over as he gasps for breath.

"That's not funny, Dean!"

"I wish I could see your face!"

"Dean!"

Dean goes forward to pull Sam into a hug, still chuckling. "Sammy, we'll make it. Okay? C'mon." He tugs his brother with him as he starts walking, snorting when Sam elbows him in the ribs.

It isn't two minutes later that whatever happiness was lingering is taken away.

"Dean."

"What?"

"Does the ground feel wetter to you?"

Dean digs out the flashlight, figuring this was important enough to use it. Switching it on, he shines it down on the ground. Sure enough, they're walking in mud now. As he watches, it starts to get wetter. "Well shit." He shines the dim light around as they keep walking, noticing it's getting dryer the more they walk, not wetter.

"It's coming from behind us?"

"Guess so." Dean turns around to shine the light down the tunnel where they just came.

The brother's watch as water starts trickling towards them. Little by little at first. Barely noticeable. But soon, it starts coming more.

"Dean…"

"Lets' keep moving. C'mon."

"You just _had _to mention the water making it up here."

"Shut up, Sam."

They start going faster, ducking as they go through a lower part of the tunnel. Their feet start splashing in the water.

"Damnit. It must be raining."

"You think?" thick with sarcasm.

"Sam, you're really not helping."

Getting to another fork in the path, they stop. Dean shines the light down both.

"Let's go to the right. We went left last time." Sam pulls Dean with him.

They get two minutes down the tunnel, and it starts going down. "Maybe we should go to the other one. We should find higher ground."

Sam sighs. "Yeah. Let's go." When they get back to where the tunnel split, the water is getting high enough to seep into their shoes. "Do you hear that?"

Dean listens too, cursing again before pulling Sam with him to go down the other tunnel. "Probably another storm like the one that was going on when we got here."

"That's a lot of water."

"Just keep moving."

Five minutes in and the water starts rising again. And the sound they heard earlier is getting louder. It's like a stream. More water is on its way. They keep walking. Not quite panicking yet. They still have time. This tunnel has a small spot too, and it doesn't go up. It's still better than going down. Eventually though, they get to another cave in. Luckily, it's not quite as close to the top as the one before. They'll have plenty of room to go over. As they get to it, the rest of the water comes.

Sam lets out a small cry of surprise when the icy cold water splashes up onto his legs. By the time they reach the cave in, its up to his knees.

"Alright. Up you go." Dean goes to help start Sam up the wall.

Sam steps back, frowning. "No. Together. I can climb. Let's go."

Dean sighs, turning to start up. "Alright. C'mon."

Sam starts pulling himself up as the flood hits. It splashes up against the wall, soaking the front of his shirt to make him gasp in surprise at the new onslaught of cold water. He's right next to Dean, only a little lower, but as more water starts splashing up against the dirt, it starts giving away below his feet.

Dean makes it to the top first, turning around to reach down for Sam's hand. He has the flashlight in his mouth, casting only a small glow around them.

Sam reaches up to grab his hand just as the next wave of water hits. Though he's lucky enough to close his hand around Dean's wrist as Dean does to his, the water soaks him to the bone, some splashing up in a wave to choke him. As he coughs up the water, he tries to help Dean pull him up the wall. Scrambling with his other hand, he manages to reach the top and pull himself up and over.

Dean grabs his shirt to yank him over the other side and they both slide down together. Dean is muttering to himself as he yanks Sam's jacket off and using the sleeve of his own to wipe off his face and hair. Eventually, he actually starts talking so Sam can understand him. "You just _had_ to be difficult."

Sam is shivering too much to care, letting Dean wipe the water from his face and wrapping his arms around himself after his jacket is stripped away. He leans into Dean when his brother wraps his arms around him and starts wiping his jacket over Sam's shirt in an attempt to soak up some of the water.

"You alright?"

"Jus' cold." He sighs in relief when Dean closes his arms around him and just holds him to his chest. As Dean's body heat seeps into him, he starts to stop shivering. "You're getting wet," he mumbles.

"You're already wet," Dean mutters. "Me gettin' damp isn't gonna kill me."

Sam doesn't argue. Just lets himself revel in the warmth of his brother. "Thanks," he breathes after a while.

Dean sighs. Pulls the flashlight from where he stashed it in his pocket before warming Sam to shine it on the cave in. Water is seeping through, and a little is making it over, but so far it's keeping the water away. "We should keep moving. You gonna be okay?"

Sam nods, stepping away and lifting his shirt away from his chest to shake it in an attempt to air dry it. When Dean looks to him, he waves his hand to the tunnel. "Lead the way."

Dean shakes his head, throwing Sam's jacket to dry over the bag still hanging over his torso and starts walking. The flashlight goes back into the bag. It isn't two minutes before his worry comes to the forefront. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah. Just a little cold."

"You choked on some water back there. You breathing okay?"

Sam huffs out a laugh. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Next time I go to help you, no arguing. Alright?"

Sam rolls his eyes to himself. "Fine."

"Don't roll your eyes at me."

He glares into the darkness. "Shut up."

Dean chuckles.

The next hour of walking isn't too bad. Dean grumbles about his wet boots. Sam punches him in the arm and reminds him of his soaked clothes. Dean throws his arm over his shoulders and holds him close to his side to share body heat as they walk. The longer they go though, the more Sam starts to slow. Another hour later and he asks to sit for a while and take a break. He's starting to shiver again.

Dean frowns as he sits. "You tired?"

Sam follows. "Yeah. A little cold too."

Dean turns and reaches out, taking his face in his hands. "Hey. You alright?" He hums in disapproval. "You feel warm."

Sam presses his face into Dean's hands. "So do you." He shivers, pushing Dean back and crawls into his lap a second later. "Can we take a break?"

Dean sits dumbfounded as his fifteen year old brother curls up into his lap like a cat, even pressing his face into his neck again. Just because he wants to this time, not for comfort. He closes his arms around Sam though, tightening them and tucking him closer when he feels him shiver through the heat radiating from his body.

"Yeah. We can take a break." Inside, he's cursing. Sam is sick. He's burning up. After getting soaked twice, it's no wonder he's getting sick. This isn't good. Not at all. "Sleep, Sammy. We'll keep going when you feel better."

The only reply he gets is a quiet hum against his collar bone.

Using one hand, he opens their bag, finally seeing this as urgent enough to pull out the extra jacket and shakes it open. He slowly brings it over his brother, tucking it around him. He already feels himself starting to sweat but when he feels Sam shiver again, he decides it doesn't matter. Sam needs to stay warm. He rests his cheek on Sam's head, letting his eyes fall closed. They could both use a little sleep.

* * *

He wakes up even sweatier than when he fell asleep. The reason he woke up makes itself know when Sam shifts again, a low moan coming from his throat. Dean shifts to look down at his face, seeing it scrunched. He reaches up to smooth away the lines. "Easy, Sammy. I've got you." He pushes Sam's sweaty hair away from his face, kissing his forehead, then sighs. "We need to keep going little brother."

Sam doesn't stir.

Dean ponders for a minute, then sighs again. He sits up, holding Sam to him as he pulls the jacket around and slides Sam's arms into it. "Should have known you'd find a way to get the jacket," he teases his sleeping brother. "But I didn't think you'd go gettin' yourself sick."

"Jerk," Sam mumbles, opening his eyes a little.

Dean grins. "What? It's true." He stands, helping Sam up after. He swallows his worry when Sam sways, turning around and pulling his arms over his shoulders. "Climb aboard little monkey."

"Shut up," Sam mutters, but wraps his arms around his brother's shoulders before pulling up to do the same with his legs. "Not little." He presses his face back into his brother's neck.

Dean chuckles, getting a hold of his brother's legs to support him. "Enough for me to give you a piggy back ride. I thought I was done with these."

Sam huffs into his neck.

Dean smiles. If Sam is still able to get annoyed, then he must not be too bad. Lifting the bag into his shoulder, he starts off again. He uses some of the last of their dying flashlight to keep from running into anything. Doesn't want to take any chances with his brother on his back. Sam falls asleep for another hour. He knows when Sam wakes up again because his arms re-tighten around his shoulders.

"De?"

"Hmm?"

"You might want to set me down."

Dean has heard that particular voice since the kid was five. Now, the waver and grit in it is giving him a warning. A second later, he's crouching down and turning to lower his weak brother to his knees. "Hey. You're alright. Just breathe."

Sam takes shallow breaths, trying to stay in control. "I don't feel good."

Dean huffs out a humorless laugh. "You think, little brother?"

"You probably want to back up."

"Not goin' anywhere, Sammy."

"De-"

"Do you know how many times I had to clean up your messes when you were little?"

Sam's face scrunches and he opens his mouth to answer, but is suddenly cut off with a gag. He lets himself lean forward, finally unable to keep from emptying the contents of his stomach. Which weren't much in the first place. Neither of them have eaten since the sandwich earlier.

Dean stays resiliently beside him, one hand on his shoulder and the other running through his hair. "Easy. Easy. Let it out. Maybe you'll feel better then."

Sam groans. "This sucks."

Dean huffs. "You're tellin me."

Sam spits one more time. "Too bad we don't have good water."

Dean sighs. "Yeah I know. You want a small bite of a sandwich just to get the taste out of your mouth? I'm sure that one little bite wouldn't make you sick again."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Dean hands him one of the remaining sandwiches, rubbing soothing circles on his back before taking he sandwich after Sam takes a bite. "You okay?" He zip locks the bag and puts the sandwich away.

Sam pulls the jacket closer around him. "Just a little cold."

"You good to travel?"

Sam nods. "We need to keep moving."

"Want me to carry you?"

Sam looks up, a crooked, sad, and hesitant smile on his face. "Please?"

Dean chuckles, turning around. "Climb aboard."

Sam does, resting his chin on Dean's shoulder. He turns his face to touch his nose to Dean's cheek. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean turns his head so that Sam's forehead touches Dean's temple. "You're welcome baby boy." He starts walking, hands strong under Sam's thighs to hold him up and back bent to let him lean forward. He tries to keep his sick brother comfortable. As comfortable as he can possibly be down here.

"I'll let you know if I feel sick, 'kay?"

"I'm not worried, Sammy. Don't be defensive. Okay?"

Sam finally relaxes, laying his head down on Dean's shoulder. "Hey, Dean."

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

It's quiet for a minute. When Sam is ready to just feel stupid, Dean answers. "You know I love you too, Sam."

Sam seems to try and burrow even closer, arms tightening and turning his face the other way to press in under Dean's jaw. "Always nice to hear though."

The warmth that spreads through Dean has nothing to do with his brother on his back. He turns his head to brush his lips against Sam's forehead. "I know. Love you little brother."

One of Sam's arms moves up to wrap around Dean's neck, fingers sinking into the short hairs on the back. "Thanks."

* * *

**So... how about that premiere? :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Late update but here it is. Thanks to all those following.  
**

**Warning you that this is where the wincesty parts start. But it'll all be PG. So I hope you'll keep reading even if you don't like wincest. It'll be few and far between because that's not my main focus. That's just how my mind went. *shrugs*  
**

**Ch. 6**

"Hey, you need a break?"

They've been walking without incident for a couple hours now. Dean has started to slow. "Nah. I'm good."

"Dean. We should take a break." Sam nudges his cheek with his nose. "You've been carrying me for a long time. And I appreciate it. I still feel like crap. But you need to rest too."

Dean sighs, slowing to a stop. "Okay."

Sam is almost worried at how easy that was. Want's to ask if Dean is feeling sick now. But he really has been carrying him for a long time. So he's probably just tired. Even though he's still mostly arms and legs, he's not light anymore. He slides down when Dean stops, leaving one arm over Dean's shoulders to maintain that contact in the dark.

Finding a wall, Dean slides to the ground, leaving his arm out for Sam to curl up under. He moves his hand up after Sam sits down to feel his forehead. "You've still got a fever. You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine. Are you okay? You seem to be slowing down some."

Dean chuckles. "You aren't light, you know." He turns his head to kiss the top of Sam's. "Rest now. We'll keep going soon."

"And I'll walk."

Another chuckle. "If you feel up to it."

Sam bites his lip as he debates on whether he wants to say what he's thinking.

Dean sighs. "I can hear that mind working. What now?"

"I just… I like you in the dark."

"...What?"

Sam shrugs. "You don't act like you don't care."

Dean is quiet for a minute. "You think I don't care?" It's barely breathed. The pain in it is badly hidden.

"No!" Sam turns, arm going around Dean's neck as the other goes around his back in a tight hug. "No. I said you don't _act_ like you don't care. Down here, you don't act like you're some big tough guy. You aren't afraid to be a little… chick-flicky." He nudges his nose under Dean's chin. "I like you like this."

Dean's chest compresses. He wraps his arms around his brother. "Sammy…"

"Don't worry about it. I know. It's Dad, right?"

Dean sighs, situating Sam so that his legs are laying over Dean's lap and he's leaning his shoulder into Dean's chest. He lays his head on Sam's. "Only partly. You have noticed he's tried getting us places with separate rooms, haven't you?"

Sam frowns. "Yeah."

"And you keep sneaking into mine anyway."

"Nightmares," Sam mutters.

Dean reaches up to run his hands through Sam's hair. "Not accusing. Just pointing something out."

"He thinks we're too old to be sharing a room," Sam states.

"Let alone sharing a bed like we do in the hotel rooms."

"But… I like sleeping with you. I don't have nightmares." Sam's arm tightens around Dean's neck where it still hangs.

"I know, Sammy," Dean sooths, kissing his head again. There's something about what Sam said about liking the extra contact. Something freeing. It's hard to keep from wanting constant contact now.

Sam tilts his head up. When he talks, the smile is heard in his voice. "See. You're less self-conscious in the dark."

Dean snorts, too tired to put up any other protest. His hand stops moving, but stays resting on the back of Sam's neck.

Sam lets his head fall forward so his lips rest against Dean's neck. With the smell of his brother permeating his every breath, he lets his eyes close. After a minute, he can hear Dean's breathing had already evened out. Glad his brother is finally resting, he lets himself drift off.

Sam has no idea how long it's been since they fell asleep. Waking up first is a shock. He can tell by Dean's breathing his brother is still asleep. Laying completely still, he starts to wonder what it was that woke him. From the way his eyes want to fall closed again, he can tell they haven't been sleeping for long. Something had to have woken him up.

A few seconds later, a loud 'crack' sounds down the tunnel, making his eyes snap open. That is definitely what woke him up. His hand clenches around Dean's shirt where it's fallen while he slept. He listens, not willing to wake his brother up. He ends up sidetracked though, when he feels the obvious heat coming from his brother.

Now that his own fever is gone, he notices that Dean is way too warm. His brother is always warm, but after sharing a bed a million times in hotels across the country, Sam can tell when it's different. And this is different. This is a fever. He curses to himself. He got Dean sick. He flinches when another sound makes its way through the tunnel. He tries to wake up his brother. "Dean. Dean, wake up," he hisses. Trying to stay quiet.

Dean mumbles, hand coming up to rest on Sam's arm.

"_Dean._"

It may have been the desperation in his voice that wakes Dean up. His brother's hand tightens around his arm, head jerking away from where it was touching Sam's.

"Something's down here."

Dean is definitely awake now. "Where?"

Sam frowns at the obvious fatigue in his brother's voice, but the alertness is still there. "I don't know. I could just hear it moving. You think it's the wendigo?"

Dean curses, pulling the strap of the bag over his head and feeling around for the zipper. "Maybe. Let's pull out the flares in case." Finding them eventually, he hands one to Sam and keeps the other for himself. "We each have one chance with these. Don't miss."

Sam's heart goes into overdrive, ears straining for any other noise that might indicate what or where the thing is.

"I'm gonna laugh if it's just the tunnel cracking away."

Sam elbows him in the ribs.

Dean lets out a squeak of pain.

Sam's head whips around as if he'd be able to see his brother in the dark. "What's wrong?" That was not the sound Dean makes when Sam gets a jab at him. That was real pain.

Dean never gets a chance to answer though. Because the sounds get closer. "Sam," he murmurs, "those are footsteps. I'm going to hand you the flashlight and you're going to flick it on when I say, okay?"

"Okay," Sam breathes.

"I'll have the flair ready. Keep yours ready in case."

They're both silent, listening as the quiet shuffling gets closer.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

One more sound of a step and Dean nudges him. "Now."

They've both done the research on wendigos. Seen the lore drawings. Read about what they're like. Nothing prepared them for the actual, terrifying thing. When the very last of their light floods the tunnel, Sam's breath catches in his throat at the sight that greets them.

Dean fires off the shot.

Having the gun ready with anything else would have been the perfect plan. But with the wendigo, seeing the gun in Dean's hand gave it enough warning to take off before the flare could connect. Then things get frantic.

The brothers push themselves to their feet, getting ready for the attack. Neither are ready in time. Dean gets thrown across the tunnel, the blur that goes by disappearing for a second.

"Dean!" Sam starts over to his brother. The next attack slams into him, more than likely cracking a rib or two as air whooshes out of his lungs with the pained squeak that would have been a yell if he had enough air. He lands on his back, a stray tear running down into his hairline from the pain in his chest.

"Sammy!" Dean had righted himself just in time to see his brother land, his heart clenching when his brother doesn't get up. As he straightens, he himself grimaces against his own pain as he tries to get over to his brother. He barely takes a step before the thing is standing in front of him.

It's impressive in stature, no denying that. And it's obvious the skeleton like body is stronger than it should be for how it looks. It stares him down, gruesome face twisted up in a snarl. It has Dean trapped away from his brother. The wendigo is stronger than him, but strong or not, Dean isn't going to stand for that. The speed surprises him again when he takes one step forward. He never makes it to Sam.

Body colliding with a beam in the tunnel wall, his head cracks against it. He doesn't get up from where he rolls to his back after landing.

The wendigo walks forward, hand reaching out for Dean.

"Hey!"

The shot is fired in time with the yell, the flare colliding with the creature just as it turns around. It goes up in flames. When the flames die out, the tunnel is pitch black again, the flashlight a tiny speck of yellow in the ground, unable to even shine farther than in the flashlight itself. That doesn't matter. Sam knows where his brother is.

"Dean! Dean, wake up!" Sam kneels over his brother, hands on his chest. He nudges him in panic, fingers going to find a pulse a second later. He doesn't find one. "Oh God." Tilting his brother's head back, the basics of CPR start running through his head. He and Dean had both learned at an early age. Being left home alone, it was vital in case anything happened. Now? Sam only hopes it will save Dean's life.

Sam breathes into his lungs, reaching down and checking that his head really was tilted back far enough that the air wasn't going into his brother's stomach. When he feels that it's okay, he starts compressions, tears running down his face, both from the pain of his ribs and his fear for Dean. "C'mon Dean." He breathes for his brother again, turning his head to listen after. Still nothing. He goes back to compressions. "You can't leave me down here!"

He goes through five rounds of compressions and breathing with the pain in his chest. All the while he gets more and more frantic. When he still doesn't get anything and his chest is burning too much to continue, he slams his fist down on Dean's chest. "Damnit Dean!" He falls forward, head resting on Dean's chest, and cries. "You can't leave me, Dean. You can't leave me." Talking about life now, not just here. "Please. Dean." He can't talk anymore after that. Sobs overtaking him, unable to even find air to breathe. Like his brother took it with him.

His whole body slumps forward now. He lays his head on Dean's chest, arms going around the one of Dean's that's next to him. If Dean is dead, then he doesn't want to continue. Won't continue without his brother. Can't even imagine leaving him alone down here, dead or not. Tears run down his cheeks and nose to drip onto Dean's shirt. He turns his face to burry his nose in the smell. Peace washes over him. He's ready to just lay here and die next to his brother. It's then that he feels a faint rhythm against his forehead.

His head jerks up, eyes wide as they attempt to look through the dark at his motionless brother. He reaches up to check for a pulse, finding one very weak, but there. He sniffs, wiping the tears from his face. "You jerk. You did that on purpose." As he hiccups to try and stop crying he can't help but smile, sinking his fingers into Dean's hair and brushing through it over and over again. Does what Dean always does to him. A familiar sign of affection.

He lays his other hand over Dean's heart to reassure himself of Dean being alive as he sits by his brother's shoulder and looks around at the surrounding darkness. Eventually he's calm enough to start thinking. "Now what, Dean? We have no flashlight. You're out for the count. I'm still uselessly weak after being sick and can't carry anything because I think the thing broke some of my ribs." He sighs. Reaches over to feel for their bag in the darkness, eventually finding it and pulling it towards him. He starts feeling around inside, seeing what else they have.

When his hand closes around the metal container, he wants to kick himself. "Dean! We forgot about the matches," he growls. Opening the container, his fingers find the lighter first, making him roll his eyes. "We are such idiots."

It's hard to fill the lighter with fluid in the dark, but he manages. Flicking it on a minute later, the small glow makes him smile. Being in the dark for more than at least twelve hours makes you miss the light. He turns to his brother, inspecting his face in the dark. Turning it. Checking for any major injuries. Besides a few scratches and dirt, he seems to be okay. It's the way he's still burning up that worries Sam.

He's reluctant to leave his brother, but the hope of a fire is too hard to pass up. Being in a coal mine that's been abandoned, means there's perfect coal just laying around. His breath catches when he pushes himself up, arms going around his chest as pain spikes through it. "Ow." He clenches his teeth, waiting it out. When it goes back to a dull throb, he starts walking.

It's harder to find good coal than he thought. It seems like there are either different types, or some are just better than others. Eventually though, he has a small pile of ten, along with a few pieces of wood from the broken beams around them. With the help of most of the lighter fluid, he gets a small glow going. A flame or two appears every once in a while, but mostly it's just the glow of the coals.

Sam leans back against his brother's legs, trying to get his ribs to stop hurting. The hitching in his breathing from the pain is the only sound in the tunnel now. He doesn't fall asleep, the pain and leftover adrenaline keeping him up. He keeps the small fire going with other pieces of old wood and a few coals added every half hour or so. Through it all, his hand is resting on his brother's heart to reassure himself.

It's an immeasurable amount of time later that Dean finally stirs with a groan.

Sam is instantly scooting closer to his head. "Dean." From the light glow of the coals, he can see his brother's eyes flicker open to focus black orbs on him. "You feel okay?"

Dean groans again, eyes going closed. "Never better." He pushes himself up, grunting in pain before he lets himself fall back against the wall he had been thrown against. He sits slouched there for a while before pushing himself up a little more to at least be close to sitting. Then he looks over at Sam. "You okay, Sammy?" He reaches out, pressing a hand to Sam's side. "You hit the ground pretty hard."

Sam grimaces at the memory of the unforgiving force ramming into him. "I've been better," he hedges.

Dean glares, blinks, and looks to the coals when he realizes he's actually able to see Sam. Then he looks to Sam again. "We are such idiots," he groans, letting his head fall back against the wall.

Sam grins. "That's exactly what I said." He goes to reach for another piece of wood, not realizing he'll be leaning over farther than before he moved closer to where Dean's head was. The white-hot pain that shoots through his torso almost makes him black out. He let's out a sharp cry, letting himself fall to lay on his back as he waits for the piercing pain to go away.

When Sam lets out that scream, Dean feels his stomach drop to a pit he didn't even know he had. The level of panic that overtakes him is staggering. It gives him the energy he needs to finally push himself up. "Sam! Sammy, hey, talk to me." Dean pushes himself to kneel next to Sam, hands hovering over his brother's body, not sure what to do.

"Just… give me a second," he pants.

"What the hell, man?" Dean's worry turns to anger, one hand finally resting on Sam's shoulder, the other lightly touching his side.

"I think the wendigo… cracked a rib or two," Sam grits out. He takes a few breaths, letting out a slight whine when he pain doesn't go away.

Dean lets out a shocked sigh of, "Oh, Sammy…" He feels around his brother's chest, grimacing as he causes his brother to let out squeaks of pain. "I'm sorry. Just trying to see what all is wrong…" he trails off as his hand sinks in where it's not supposed to and Sam let's out a sharp cry. "It broke at least one," Dean growls. He reaches one hand under his brother and keeps the other on top. "The pain isn't going away because it's moved. I'm going to try and get it to move back so it won't puncture anything. Okay?"

Sam's head falls over to look at him. "You can do that?" he grits out.

"Dad had something hit him hard once. I managed to move it enough until I got him to the hospital. You ready?"

Sam lets out another wine, closing his eyes and nodding once.

Dean doesn't warn him. It wouldn't help the situation any. He just goes to it, fingers digging into his brother's side and stomach to try and get the rib away from important organs. It's easier than it could be, still mostly in position. It just needs to be pulled back, which is something Dean can safely do until they get to the hospital. The hardest part? Listening to Sam.

It starts out as a harsh cry, turning to choked gasping as the pain gets more intense. Dean keeps up a mantra of 'I'm sorry', his own tears springing to his eyes at his brother's pain. When he's finally satisfied, he gingerly lays himself down next to his gasping brother, hand cupping the back of Sam's head and pressing his own in to touch them together. They're practically sharing breath.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry little brother. You need to calm down now. The pain will go away. Breathe with me Sammy. C'mon. God, I'm sorry." A few more of his own tears slide down his cheeks as Sam lets out small sounds of pain as he tries to stop the heaving of his chest. He doesn't know what else to do besides just breathe, letting Sam start to match his shaky breathing to his. "That's it baby boy. You're okay."

Sam's breath hitches one more time before going mostly back to normal. He nudges his nose against Deans. "Thanks." He just breathes for a minute. "It's almost back to how it was earlier. Just a throbbing. Not like a knife is sinking into me."

Dean's hand tightens on Sam's neck where his hand has slid. "Good." His eyes fall closed in relief. They snap open a second later when he feels lips brushing against his own.

It's a short kiss. Barely there. Sam pulls back with his bottom lip under his teeth in nervousness.

Dean stares in shock, stomach wildly out of control. "Sam…"

"Don't. Just… take it for what it was. Okay? Just… don't ruin it by telling me it shouldn't have happened." Sam looks down.

Dean sighs, forehead going forward again to touch to Sam's. His fingers play with the ends of Sam's hair. He doesn't say anything. Because honestly, he doesn't want to ruin it either.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the continuing support guys! :)  
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**School is... well... school. But I'm finding time to keep writing.  
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**One tiny wincest moment in this chapter. As usual, nothing major. Easily ignored i hope for those who don't care for it.  
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**Enjoy!  
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* * *

**Ch. 7**

Neither of them move from where they're laying until the coals are almost dead. Dean lets both of them rest. Doesn't want to make Sam move. But they can't just stay here. When he's happy with how long his brother's breathing has been normal, he pulls back to make eye contact. "You doin' okay?"

Sam sighs. "We need to keep going, huh?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Not your fault." Sam goes to push himself up, wincing.

"Hold on. Okay? Just let me help." Dean seems to take forever to get to his own feet, holding his breath in the process.

Sam notices. "What's wrong, Dean? Did it hurt you too?"

Dean lets out his breath, knowing he won't be able to hide this from his brother much longer. "Remember the first cave in? When I said something got me?"

Sam shudders at the memory of the tight place. "Yeah."

"I think it's getting infected." He reaches down, hands snagging under Sam's arms to lift him up to his feet in one heave with a little help from Sam.

"What?!" Once he's on his feet, he turns to Dean, wincing at the sharp pain in his ribs from the movement.

"Easy. Calm down, Sam. I'm going to be okay."

"I thought you were getting sick! You have a fever! That's not okay! What if they don't find us before you get even more sick?"

Dean takes Sam's face in his hands, leaning down the small distance to make eye contact in the very little bit of glow from the embers. It is pretty impressive how much their eyes have adjusted to the darkness after being down here for so long. "Sam. We're both getting out of here alive. Okay? We'll get out in time."

Sam steps forward to touch their foreheads together. Liking how it's become their thing. "Promise."

"I promise, Sammy. I'm not going to leave you."

Sam sniffs. "You better not. I don't know what I'd-"

"Hey." Dean's voice is hushed. "Don't think like that. I've been fine so far. And when they find us, they'll just shoot me up with antibiotics until I'm so drugged up there's no way the infection could get any worse."

Sam huffs. "You sure you're alright? How deep is it?"

Dean chuckles. "Stop worrying about me, Sammy. It stopped bleeding a long time ago. Now it just hurts."

"Well I'm with you there," Sam teases half-heartedly, arm resting around his ribs.

Dean grins, sliding an arm around Sam. "C'mon. Time to move on."

They stop to kick dirt over the coals and to pick up the bag. Sam wishes desperately he could take some of the burden from his brother, but when he goes to lift the bag, a sharp pain shoots through his chest. They end up walking like they have been, Dean's arm protectively over Sam's shoulders and the bag over his other shoulder.

They move a lot slower now. Sam breathing shallow because of his ribs and Dean slowing down from the infection spreading from the cut on his own side. They eat their last sandwiches as they walk, stomachs still growling when they're done because of how little they've eaten before now.

"How long do you think it's been?" Sam asks.

"Well… we aren't dieing of starvation yet. So less than a week."

"Dean."

"What? How am I supposed to know? It's always dark. What's your guess?"

"Four days."

"That long, you think?"

"A fever doesn't go away in a few hours on it's own. I know that was at least a day though it felt longer because I was miserable. And I think maybe two days before that. And now. Four days total. But… it's felt like so much longer."

It's quiet for a while.

Sam is the one to break the silence. "You're thinking they should have at least met us half way by now." It's not a question.

Dean sighs. "I'm not gonna lie. Yeah, that's what I think. But I also know that Dad wouldn't let them drag ass."

Sam chuckles. "Yeah."

"They'll get here. One way or another. If they have to drill a hole in the mountain, Dad would get them to do it."

"From fear for their lives, maybe," Sam quips.

Dean snorts. "You're a brat."

Sam shrugs. "It's been said."

Dean chuckles. "Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam reaches up to lay his hand on his brother's that's resting on his shoulder. His face drops when he feels Dean sliding his hand away. A second later, his mouth drops open in shock when his "no chick-flicks" brother links fingers with him, hand hanging over his shoulder so Sam doesn't have to reach up so much.

"Not a word of this to anyone."

Sam smiles to himself. "My lips are sealed." His fingers curl closed around Dean's.

The walk is boring for the next half hour. So of course it has to go bad again.

If it's not for Dean stumbling, they probably would have walked right into it. Just like the beginning of their journey. As it is, it's part of the cave in that Dean trips over because of how little he's lifting his feet to walk. He's practically leaning on Sam now, though the younger Winchester doesn't call him on it. Even though it hurts his ribs, he wants to give his brother as much help as possible to walk. Until Dean decides that face-planting on the ground is the next big thing.

Sam lets out a squeak when the yank of his brother's body jerks his own and irritates the broken bones. He stumbles a little, trying to keep a hold of his brother, but ends up empty handed when it all quiets. "Geeze."

Dean grunts, starting to push himself up. "Sorry," he pants.

Sam reaches out to help him back up with the minimal use of his arms. "You alright?" This is the second time that Dean's fallen. The first time was funny. This time is worrying.

"Lighter. I think we should see what else is around us. It feels rough." When he's standing, he takes the lighter from Sam.

They both stand there, looking at it for a full minute in silence.

"So… this is why the rescue team hasn't gotten to us yet," Dean murmurs.

They're almost certain this was the mouth of the mine. The very beginning. The way it widens at the end before the completely blocked opening has belongings of the miners dropped. The place hasn't been touch since it happened, it looks like. Hats are laying everywhere. Even some clothes. Dean might notice the bones of a hand sticking out from under the rubble. That doesn't mean he tells Sam.

Turning back to look down where they came from, Dean sighs. It's hard to keep optimistic for Sam when his own hope is drained away. He's tired. So tired. He just wants to rest. But Sam… "You ready to backtrack?" he asks tiredly.

Sam just shuffles forward, sliding back under Dean's arm to start them off again. "So close, yet so far. We could have been out of here." Sam's tired too. But they need to at least try to get out of here a different way. Winchesters don't just lay down and die. So they go back. Nothing is said. Both are just too tired of being here to think of anything else to say. They just walk.

The more they walk, the more Dean leans on Sam. Once again, probably unconsciously. When Sam's ribs really start to burn, he's the one who suggests a break. He knows his brother is determined not to give in so he takes the decision away from him. "C'mon. I need a break. Let's sit for a while."

Dean just grunts as Sam lowers him to the ground, automatically opening his arm to tuck Sam in next to him. Sam frowns when he notices his breathing is rougher, Dean's temperature also probably the highest it's been so far. It worries him but he keeps his concerns to himself. Until Dean passes out anyway.

It doesn't take long for Dean to fall asleep after sitting down. His fatigue was obvious. When Sam moving around doesn't wake him, he scoots away and very slowly lowers him to lay on the ground. Pulling up his brother's shirt, he gets the lighter out of Dean's pocket and flicks it on. He immediately wants to throw up.

This isn't infection anymore. This is death. If Dean doesn't get help soon, he's going to die from the infection spreading through him. The discoloration around the gash is so grotesque that Sam lets the lighter go out and turns away in case his stomach throws up any of the last bit of food he had. He barely keeps it down, steeling himself for what he has to do now.

Squeezing it out isn't going to save Dean, but it may buy him some time. The process? The grossest thing Sam has ever done. And he's done it before. But nothing like this. This is… it's sickening. "Please stay asleep. Please just stay passed out." If his brother wakes up while he's doing this, it's going to hurt. He hopes for that one little mercy for Dean.

He uses one of the knives to open the wound again by the light of the lighter, wincing at the whine that Dean makes. "Sorry. I'm sorry." It's like a reverse from earlier. Apologies keep tumbling from his lips as he puts the knife and lighter down again and starts squeezing the puss out. His stomach flips, but in the dark, he can't see it. After a few seconds, Dean stops making sounds and Sam hopes he's out for the count. He periodically picks up the lighter in one hand, looking to see how much it's working until it's only blood coming out.

He slides off the big jacket, his jacket, and his shirt, rolling his shirt up and pressing it to the wound. Then he pulls his belt through the loops of his jeans, sliding it under and around his brother to fasten it right over the wad of his shirt and pulls it through until it's tight, but not too tight. He's glad his belt is almost too long for him seeing as he has to use the last and tightest hole when wearing it, it's fastened at the second one now to fit around Dean's side.

"What I wouldn't give for some alcohol. Heck, whiskey would work." He pulls his jacket back on, zipping it closed before pulling the other jacket on. If Dean starts shivering, he'll give it to him. But something tells him it's not that kind of fever. "We need to keep moving," he groans to himself. If they don't, Dean could die before they get help. It doesn't take him long to figure out what needs to happen. It takes forever for him to work up to it knowing how much it's going to hurt.

He ties the string from their bag around the gloves to keep it from cutting into his brother, putting them right under Dean's armpits and tying the ends around the bag. Then he sighs as he looks around by the faint light of the lighter. The ground is smooth, but every once in a while there's something that could potentially hurt Dean. He'll have to use the lighter as much as possible to keep him from getting more hurt.

Wincing as he pulls the bag over his head and shoulder, he tries to situate the strap higher on his chest so it doesn't touch his broken ribs. It also keeps Dean's head from dragging the ground. Then he starts the painful trek of pulling his brother down the tunnel. The only thing that keeps him going after the first initial spike of pain is the thought of leaving his brother alone down here to go find help. And he's not quite ready for that yet. Not so close to that encounter with the wendigo.

He recites every Latin incantation he knows, every fact about any creature his dad and brother have told him about, and every city he's ever visited to keep his mind off of the pain. It only half works. He takes frequent breaks, stopping to lean against the wall to breathe and be weak enough to let out a few whimpers for a second. Then he pushes on. It seems to go on like this forever. Kept company only by his brother's feverish mumblings every once in a while.

He has no idea how long he's been going or how far he's gotten before he has to stop for good, tears springing to his eyes now that he's sinking to the ground next to his brother's body. "I'm sorry, Dean. I just can't. I told you I'm not strong enough." He lets out a pained grunt as he pulls his brother into his lap, laying Dean's head over his thighs and letting his arm fall over Dean's chest. If he can't take his brother with him, he'll stay here and die with him. But he's not leaving him.

"You've never really left me. You were always there when the creature came after me. Killed the werewolf, the ghoul, and found me when the witch had me trapped. You've even made sure no one at school messed with me. I'm not leaving you. If I'm not strong enough to save you, then I won't leave you." He feels his eyes getting heavy. He presses his hand over his brother's heart. "Love you, Dean." Then he lets himself fall asleep.

* * *

He wakes up to a hand tapping his face. The first initial ones he ignores, but then his eyes snap open. His hopes of a rescue disappear when he still sees nothing but the blackness surrounding them. Then his heart leaps, his hand coming up to take Dean's in his. "Hey, man. You doin' okay?"

Dean huffs from where he's still laying in Sam's lap. "I feel like crap. How long was I out? And when did you take care of my side?"

"I have no idea how long you've been out," Sam sighs, hand lowering both his and Dean's to rest on his brother's chest. "I got some of the infection out. That and the fever are why you probably were out for a while. I didn't know if you were going to wake up. So I kept us moving for a little while."

Dean groans. "You re-opened it and squeezed it out, didn't you?"

Sam shrugs. "Had to. You were sleeping, and I think you woke up for a bit but you got lucky and passed out and missed most of it."

Dean squeezes Sam's hand in his. "You probably just saved my life for another day. That's probably why I'm even awake right now. Able to fight off the fever for a while."

Sam sinks his free hand into Dean's hair, running his fingers through the soft spikes. "Maybe. Sucked doing it though."

"I know." Dean's voice is soft now. Understanding. Hurting someone, even to help them feel better, sucks. Then he stiffens. "What do you mean you kept us moving?"

Sam sighs. "We had to keep moving Dean. Or we're going to die down here."

"What did you do?" he growls.

Sam tugs lightly on the strings still under Dean's arms. "Pulled you along for a bit."

Dean groans. "Damnit, Sam! You could have hurt your ribs even more!"

"I have the string tied to the bag. Had it over the upper part of my chest. I had it handled." He scowls down where he knows his brother's head is.

Dean sighs, too tired to even argue right now. His voice is suddenly very weak when he talks again. Like he used all of his energy to yell at Sam. "Don't hurt yourself trying to help me. It won't do any good."

Sam sighs. "I wasn't doing very good anyway."

"Sammy. I mean it. Just… please." Dean reaches up with his free hand to hold on to the back of his neck and squeeze it lightly. "Make sure you get out of here."

"I'm not leaving you, Dean." It's said in such a calm, matter-of-fact voice.

"If you have to…"

"I'm not."

"Sam. Listen to me."

"No! You listen! I'm not going off and leaving you here to die while I'm gone!"

Dean sighs. "Sam, I'm not dying yet."

"But you will if they can't get to us! And I'm not going off to let that happen to you while I'm gone!" Sam clutches his brother closer to him as if Dean has enough energy to wrench himself away.

Dean squeezes the back of Sam's neck again. "I'm going to die for sure if you don't help them get here faster," Dean murmurs.

Sam lets out a whimper he'll never admit to. "That's not fair, Dean."

"I don't care about fair. That's the truth. Now c'mon, Sammy. You need to see if one of those other tunnels has a way out. You need to get out. And you need to find help. Or you need to bring them to me. Because you're way too hurt to get me any further. And I'm not getting myself anywhere. I can barely lift my hands because of how weak I am."

Sam sniffs in the dark, barely holding in the pitiful sounds he knows he'd be making if he wasn't keeping himself from doing so.

Dean sighs in his lap, pulling his head down to kiss his temple. When he feels Sam's head turning, he doesn't protest. Instead, he welcomes Sam's lips against his. When Sam whimpers against him, he deepens it. Comforts Sam the only way he feels he can right now. When he pulls back, Sam hugs him to his chest tightly.

"I'll be back. And you better be alive."

Dean chuckles, hand moving from his neck to tug his hair lightly before falling to his stomach tiredly. "I'll be here. Promise." He doesn't think about what's happening between them. He'll address it when they're safe. If they ever get safe. And if they don't? Well his last moments were with his brother.

Sam kisses Dean on the forehead before extracting himself out from under his brother. He slides out of the big jacket, laying it over Dean.

"Sam, no," Dean protests when he realizes what Sam's doing.

"You're going to be laying here for a while." He lifts Dean's head to tuck one of the sleeves up under his head and makes sure the rest of the coat is covering his upper half. "You get the big coat since I'll be walking to stay warm."

"You are so stubborn," Dean hisses.

Sam grins, kissing his forehead one more time. "I know." He finds Dean's hand and squeezes it. "I love you."

Dean sighs. "You know I love you too, Sam."

"Wanted to hear it before I go." He leans down to press his face into Dean's chest, giving him a light hug and breathing in a deep breath of his brother's unique scent. One last comfort. Then he pushes himself painfully to his feet. Before pulling the bag over his shoulder, he takes out a knife and hands it to Dean. "You keep this one."

"Be safe," Dean murmurs, hand closing around Sam's before sliding off to take the knife.

Sam sniffs. "I'll try." Then he turns and walks down the dark tunnel, lighter in his hand and bag over his shoulder. He doesn't look back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Made sure I got this done before the weekend. Headed to Chicon this weekend. :) So enjoy the chapter. Won't be updating for a while cause of homework i'll have to work on after the busy weekend.  
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**Ch. 8  
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Without Dean by his side, Sam is ever aware of where he is. Underground, in a small tunnel, in the dark, without any idea of what could be around him. He tries to spare the lighter, not having much fluid left after the fire earlier. Realizing Dean is without a means to even do that now, he vows to go back if he doesn't find any way out or anyone coming within the time frame he guesses as twenty four hours.

As he walks, he keeps his arms securely around his ribs in a way that helps him walk without too much pain as he breathes. It still hurts. His stomach growls. It's cold without that extra jacket. And he's never felt so alone. All in all, separating from Dean sucks. Not really surprising. But he keeps going. Because Dean isn't going to make it without help.

It takes him hours, probably half of his twenty four hour standard, but when he finally gets to where the water had chased them over the cave in, he lets out a "No!" of despair. The water makes it up to his ankles before he even gets to the cave in. When he does, he wants to cry. It's more than flooded now. Water has filled the tunnel on the other side and is coming through the top of the cave in that has fallen even more to almost close the distance to the top from the water softening the dirt. They're trapped on this side. And it looks like it's either still raining, or a new storm has made it through. Because the water keeps coming.

"Can't we ever get a break!" he cries breathlessly in frustration. Running a hand through his hair, he turns back around. All he can do now is go back to Dean. Maybe they'll die together. Maybe someone will get through the rocks piled at the entrance. Either way, he just want's to be with Dean. He doesn't care what happens as long as he's with his brother.

The long walk back seems to take twice as long as getting there. His shoes squish with the water that soaked them, turning even colder as they start to air dry little by little. His ribs burn with the weight of the bag over his shoulder, and he finds himself stopping to lean against the wall every once in a while to let it push his rib cage up so he can breathe. He starts to realize how dangerous it could be if he moved in a wrong direction and it moved his ribs again. Forgives Dean for his freak out earlier. It feels like maybe pulling his brother did hurt him some.

He falls asleep during one of his rests, snapping awake after maybe an hour or so in a panic. Not wanting to leave his brother alone longer than necessary, he pushes himself to his feet and keeps going. He realizes how long he's probably been gone, the journey away from Dean seeming shorter just because he had hope of getting out. Now he's done. Just walking to get back to him. Feeling every second.

When he finally gets back to Dean, he falls to his knees before lowering himself carefully down and curling up next to his brother. Doesn't check if Dean's alive. Tries not to care. The warmth still emanating from him is the only way he knows he actually is. Pulling part of the jacket over himself and wrapping himself as close to Dean as possible, he closes his eyes and lets the darkness take him.

They're done.

* * *

Muffled explosion.

Then it's quiet for a while.

Then voices. Very loud voices. Calling. Calling something. Someone?

He's too tired. So very tired. He curls closer to the warmth next to him. Dean. He curls closer to Dean. Tucks his nose into his neck. Tries to block out the voices.

They get louder.

He tenses. No one is going to touch Dean. They aren't dead yet. And he'll protect his brother as long as they're still breathing.

Footsteps now. They're getting closer. Voices echoing. Makes him wince. Just wants the quiet back.

He finally opens his eyes, face still in Dean's neck but he sees light. Streams lining the side of the tunnel. His hand closes around the knife. He groans when he shifts and makes his ribs hurt. His eyes snap open again when he hears quick footsteps closing in. He lunges.

A mix between a cry of pain and a growl ends up being punched from his chest when his ribs move and send a white-hot heat through him. He ends up on his knees between his brother and the bright lights, eyes shifting blearily around to follow the moving shapes. There are so many voices. It's so hard to concentrate with his fatigue, a tear making it's way from the corner of an eye from the pain an frustration of not being able to keep steady. He bites out a growl of, "Back off," before he falls back to sit on his feet. His arms span to shield his brother.

"Sam!"

Clarity surges through him at the familiar voice, eyes snapping around to try and find the source. "Dad?" he croaks out.

John pushes through the men in front of him, allowing Sam to see him by the lights instead of being blocked by their brightness. "Sammy. Put the knife down."

Sam drops the knife, body slumping with a sigh. "Dad." He barely catches himself with his hand and is barely caught before he falls over.

John catches his son, slowly lowering him to the ground. "Easy. God, Sammy. You alright?" He looks to Dean, reaching out to his older son as everyone moves in. "Dean?"

"He's… sick," Sam gasps out, hand grasping at John's arm. "Infected. Help him. Quickly. He's… he's dying."

"Easy. Easy." John keeps Sam calm as he worriedly watches the paramedics that came with the group check Dean over. "He'll be okay. They'll help him."

Sam finally relaxes.

John moves over for them to check Sam over too, turning to the people around Dean. "How is he?" he asks quietly.

One of the paramedics shakes her head. "We need to get him into the truck. Sam is it?" She nods to Sam.

John nods.

"He's right. Your oldest here is infected. Cut in his right side."

"I tried to squeeze it out," Sam murmurs next to them.

John turns to him with a soft smile.

The paramedic blinks in shock.

As gurneys are brought in and both boys are lifted onto them, more and more shocked looks are passed between the paramedics. John learns to distinguish them as such, and not worry too much. He knows his sons' abilities to take care of injuries is pretty extensive and likely to cause some impression.

The gurneys are carried out so as not to jostle them on the rough terrain, some of the crew staying behind to walk the tunnels and hopefully make a story of what these boys went through. The rest escort the Winchester family out. Lifting them over the rubble is the hard part, their father insisting on being one of those lifting. It helps a lot, seeing as how he's stronger than most of the people there. Everyone starts to understand the durability of these three men.

Both boys are put in the same ambulance, the father climbing in without a word. No one bothers to dissuade him. Most of them saw how he supervised the explosion of the blockage. Getting between this man and his sons is a bad idea. So they ignore him and start going more thoroughly over the two brothers.

"They're both dehydrated. We need to get them hooked up to an IV."

"Isn't exactly clean water down rhere," Sam murmurs.

John chuckles. "We know." He runs his fingers through Sam's hair. "You alright?"

"Is Dean okay?"

Rolling his eyes, he looks to his other side where his other hand is resting on Dean's arm. "He'll be fine." He pats Dean's arm and leaves his hand there again.

"Then I'll be okay," Sam breathes.

As the ambulance pulls away from the now empty mine, John looks through the back windows at the disappearing blackness. "Good riddance," he mutters. Then focuses all of his attention on his boys as they are hooked up to IV's and are poked and prodded in the search for any more damage. Sam has finally passed out.

* * *

None of the medical staff are prepared for the three tornados that are the Winchesters. Of course, that's not the name they're given. But the point stands. These three? Probably one of the most hectic families to ever come in and have as many total injuries as they do. The two boys, anyway.

All three of them had been in the ambulance. By insistence of the father, Mr. Johnson, most likely. Things are hectic as they two injured boys are wheeled in, followed by their father among the throng of medical staff. They're all torn between annoyance and approval as the father insists on staying with them.

"They've been trapped under ground, alone, for _six _days! I'd like to be with them now!"

The two boys themselves… they're something else. Having woken up almost at the same time when they were almost to the hospital, they seem to alternate between reassuring each other and worrying almost periodically as if it's planned on a schedule.

The fact that the older one is talking clearly at all in his state is a feat. The younger one sitting up enough to keep his eyes on his older brother shouldn't even be possible with the obvious damage to his body. Through all of the noise, it's hard to not hear the blatant bond these two have. When the separation starts, that's when things get hairy.

"Temperature is over 102! Infection in the side, laceration about six inches long!"

"Dean!"

"Easy, Sammy. I'm still here." Voice weak. Faint.

Wheeled into the same room as they're checked over, younger brother reaches his hand out. Older brother seems to know it's there without looking and takes it in his, tying their fingers together. The sight is so moving, giving them all thoughts of how horrible it must have been to be alone down there in the darkness makes most of the staff avoid breaking them apart. They reach over and around them if they have to.

Sam suddenly cries out, hand tightening in Dean's for a second.

"Sammy? Sam!" Dean pushes himself up.

"We have two broken ribs, nothing seems to be punctured but we need an x-ray." Stethoscope pressed to his chest. "Breathe for me." Listens. "Possible water in his lungs."

"I'm okay, Dean." Gasping now.

Dean's head falls back to the bed again, eyes falling closed. His brother is in good hands. He's safe. Dean's job is done. When he gives in to the fever, he crashes hard.

Sam feels Dean's hand go limp in his, head snapping around to see his eyes closed and head falling limply to face Sam. "Dean!"

"Fever is up to 103!"

"We need to get that infection out or he's not going to make it."

"Don't you dare die on me!" His hand is gently pried away from his brother as Dean is wheeled from the room. "Don't you do that! Not after all we made it through!" Sam slumps back against the pillows behind him, gasping at the pain in his ribs. His teary eyes land on John to see him torn between staying with Sam and following Dean. "Follow him. You make sure he makes it."

John isn't surprised at the tone Sam uses. Heard that rebellious voice many times. What dose surprise him is the sharpness in it. The conviction that John could do anything to save him. He goes forward, smiling softly when he sees Sam's eyes drooping closed. The pain meds are taking affect. He kisses Sam on the head. "You be good now."

Sam snorts, finally unable to fight the drowsiness and lets his eyes fall closed. As he's wheeled out for his x-rays, he gets out one more sentence. "Don't you let 'im give up." A tear escapes his eye to flow down his cheek.

John chuckles. "He won't, Sam." His face falls as his second son is pushed down the hall. "He better not."

* * *

After the x-rays, Sam is back in the room he was initially wheeled in to. He's kept sedated to keep him still while they debate on whether surgery is needed. When they tell John they will be proceeding with surgery to make sure the badly broken ribs will heal right, he takes a shuddering breath. As they hook Sam up to all of the machinery, he sits by the bed and runs his fingers through Sam's hair.

"Dean's doing okay right now. Fever hasn't gone down but it hasn't gone up either. He's holding his own. Now I need you to do the same. If Dean wakes up and you're not okay all hell is going to break loose. You know it will. I'm not blind." He chuckles to himself. "So I'll be with Dean while they fix you up. Keep updated. And I'll be here when you decide to wake up and let you know what's going on. Okay?"

"Mr. Johnson?"

John nods, standing with one last fluff of Sam's hair. He turns to the doctor. "I'll be in my other son's room. You keep me updated. You hear me?"

The doctor smiles knowingly. "Don't worry. Sam will be just fine. It's something I've done more than you'd believe. Mostly from car accidents, but this will be no different."

John nods. He gives one last look to Sam, then turns and goes down the hall to Dean's room. He collapses into the chair next to his older son. "You two are going to give me even more grey hairs."

He doesn't move from that chair for hours. Periodically, a nurse would come in and check on Dean's condition. She lets him know the gash in his side is stitched up cleanly and was thoroughly cleaned out. With the antibiotics hooked up to the IV, he should start showing signs of improvement soon. No other major injuries besides a dark bruise along his back that runs perfectly straight from one shoulder to halfway down his spine. They saw that when pulling off his clothes and checked it out. It probably hurts like hell, but didn't do any bad damage.

The smaller injuries include a bump on the head that's doing fine and caused no major problems and some bruising in the ligaments of his shoulders. John knows that the very beginning is what caused that. Both Dean's own weight and hanging onto Sam pulling his arms in awkward and stressful places. Wonders how Dean managed that pain through the journey. Besides a few more various bruises and cuts, that's the total damage.

Dean's temperature finally starts going down at four in the morning. Not a half hour later, Sam's doctor comes in. John sits up. "How is he?"

The doctor smiles tiredly. "Your son has two broken ribs that I had to set by wiring them. The risk of puncturing a lung or any other organ was too high. He also has one cracked on the other side. I've wrapped up his whole mid-section from hips to chest to try and keep him and the bones still enough to heal. Before you leave, I'll provide him with a belt that will stabilize them for a little longer."

John lets out a sigh. "He'll be okay?"

The doctor shakes his head with a chuckle. "From what I hear, both of your boys are very lucky Mr. Johnson. The x-rays showed some inflammation around the ribs, which is to be expected of course, but during the surgery I noticed some things weren't quite right."

John frowns. "What…?"

"I believe your older son probably saved the younger's life by moving a rib away from his lung."

John looks over to Dean as he collapses back in his chair. "I believe it," he breathes.

"Besides the telltale signs of lingering sickness in him, the younger seems to have made it out a little better." He nods to Dean. "He looks like he got a little more dished out to him down there. Or took on more."

John huffs a laugh. "That obvious, huh? Yeah, I'm sure he's had more than he let Sammy know. He'd take on anything for his brother."

"You raised some fine, strong boys, Mr. Johnson," the Dr. leaves that as a parting compliment as he turns to leave.

John smiles softly to himself as he looks to Dean again. "I know." After a minute or two, he reaches out to grip Dean's wrist that's next to him lightly. "You did good, Dean. You did good."


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for the continued following guys!  
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**Just so ya'll know, everything wincesty that happens will be around the pg stage. Just so i don't have to keep sayin it. Cause there is another tiny spot in here.  
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**I always appreciate my readers, whether they review or not. So thanks for stickin with me. Hope you enjoy the new chapter. :)  
**

**Ch. 9**

A nurse comes to get him when Sam is settled back into his room. They're keeping him there in ICU in case any problems arise from the surgery. John is reluctant to leave Dean. In the end, he resigns to the fact that he'll have to split his time with his two sons for a while. It isn't too far, around a few corners and down the hall, but it's far enough.

Walking into the room, he lets out a sigh when he sees Sam. Considering, the kid looks good. Not too awfully pale, and clean now. No mud and dirt caked to him like when they were found. Now that he can see Sam clean, he understands what the doctor saw. Dean does look worse for the wear. A few bruises on his face. Some random cuts. Sam… he's almost spotless.

Sighing not in disappointment but in worry, he pulls a chair next to Sam's bed. "You did your fair share of protecting too, didn't you? I saw that display you put on. I guess confusion was understandable at the time. You were so exhausted and dehydrated, it seems no one is surprised you had trouble comprehending a rescue. But you were ready to protect him. Even when you knew he was dying. You did good too, Sam." He falls back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face before running it up and through his hair. "But you're both idiots."

He laughs quietly to himself for a minute, letting a few tears escape now that his sons are safe and sound. He can't be mad at them for protecting each other, but he knows they were both probably stupid when it came to doing so. But that's his fault, isn't it? Or is it just their nature? Maybe he'll never know. Whatever the reason, he's glad they had each other.

* * *

Sam wakes up first, opening his eyes to an empty room. As the fog starts to clear from his mind, his eyes snap over to the empty side of his room. Where, "Dean," should be. He swallows dryly, barely able to even hear his own voice. Where's, "Dean?" He tries to push himself up, letting out a cry and falling back against the pillow. "Dean!" should be in here with him. Where is he, damnit!

"Sam!" A nurse comes in, running over to the side of the bed. "You need to keep still. We had to-"

"Where's Dean?" he gasps frantically.

The nurse frowns.

His heart lurches.

"I don't know. He isn't-"

"What do you mean, you don't know?" He tries to push himself up again.

"Sam. You need to lay still."

"I want to know about my brother," he growls, trying to push himself up yet again before gasping. "Damnit! I want to see my brother!"

Another nurse had gone to get John by now, having heard the commotion. She leads him in before going over with the other nurse to give Sam more pain medication.

John rolls his eyes at Sam's most recent string of curse words when he finds he hurts too much to get up and go see Dean. Not usually one to be the most creative with his expletives, hearing Sam curse is always amusing. "Sam. Easy. Lay back." John pushes him back, bringing the sheets back up.

"Dad." He latches onto his father's arm. "Hey."

John chuckles. "Hi." He ruffles Sam's hair. "Now relax. Dean is fine."

Sam lets out a sigh, but doesn't relax. He turns his puppy eyes on to his dad. "I want to see him. Why isn't he in here?"

"You had to get surgery. This is ICU. Dean is in another hallway under different care."

"I want to see him."

"Sam, you can hardly move without hurting. Just wait, okay? He isn't even awake right now." He sits in the chair next to the bed.

Sam frowns at that last part. "Why not?"

"Infection was pretty bad for a while. Fever finally broke early this morning while you were in surgery."

Sam bites his lip. "But he's okay, right?"

"He's going to be. I promise."

Sam finally lets his head fall back with a sigh. "When can I see him?"

John sighs too. "We'll see how you feel tomorrow."

"This sucks."

A deep chuckle. "I know."

Sam looks to him with a small smile. "You look tired."

John shrugs. "Haven't been back to the motel in a few days."

"You should. Get some sleep and stuff. We're safe now. And not dying."

John chuckles. "You sure?"

Sam nods. "Yeah. I'll make them call you if anything happens."

John rolls his eyes. "Yeah. You'll make them."

Sam huffs. "Go away."

John laughs as he stands, hand reaching out to ruffle Sam's hair again. When Sam's head jerks away, he laughs again. "You be good. You hear me?"

Sam rolls his eyes, voice rising as the talks in annoyance. "Yes, Dad. I'm gonna cause trouble while I'm confined to this bed!"

John shakes his head, waving him off as he leaves the room. He has a wide smile on his face. At least Sam is still his same snarky self. He checks on Dean one more time before he leaves, patting his arm and leaving with a soft, "You be good too."

* * *

At night, things quiet down. Less nurses are walking around. The last check-ups are made. It's then that Sam snaps awake, as if feeling the change. He takes a few steadying breaths, feeling his chest finally loosen. Not soon after John left, the pneumonia that had been clinging to him had been fighting hard. It's going back down now though. Good. He'll need his breath for this.

Earlier, the lights were too bright. Way too bright. He kept his eyes closed most of the time, even when he wasn't knocked out from the pain killers. After being underground for… however long they were, light is a sensitivity that's new. But the dark… that's unwelcome too. At least alone. So that's what motivates Sam to slowly start untangling himself from the confines of his bed.

He wants to see Dean. Now. Not tomorrow. He wants to be with his brother if he's going to be in the dark all night. He doesn't want to be alone with the memories. With the leftover fear of never being found. Awake or not, Dean will make it better. And the only way to see Dean is to get out of this bed and find him. He's glad for the painkillers he knows they gave him, easing the pain a whole lot.

He grumbles both about the little pain he still has and the stupid hospital gown as he slowly slides his legs over the side of the bed after throwing the blanket off. Breathing through the discomfort in his chest, he finds where the IV leads to, reaching up to lift the bag off of the hook. He'll hang it in Dean's room. Doesn't really want to make the nurses mad by pulling it out just yet. Besides, if he starts hurting, they'll be able to give him more pain meds without poking him or making him take pills.

He winces as he ties the gown shut, but gets that done easily enough. Then he starts walking gingerly out of the room. After checking that the hall is clear, he leaves ICU and wonders where they would have put Dean. Then he sees the computers. He bites his lip, making his way over to sit slowly down into the chair. He doesn't really know how they have things set up on this, but it can't be that hard, right?

Glancing around guiltily, he starts going through the already open windows. He grins triumphantly when one is the patient records. Searching for Dean is hard because he doesn't know what name his dad had given them. Eventually though, he finds a Dean Johnson. Looking at the medicines on his list, he frowns. They're giving him ampicillin-sulbactam. That must have been one hell of an infection. But he knows that's Dean.

Finding the room isn't too hard. He's happy that it's at least close to his. By the time he gets to it, he has to lean against it to catch his breath before opening it. In the dark, he can barely see his brother sunk down into his pillows and blankets resting around his waist. He's still propped up a little. He lets out a sigh of relief before smiling when his eyes open. "Hey."

Dean clears his throat. "Hey. You should be in your own bed." His voice is hoarse, but still has that big brother firmness to it saying he doesn't approve.

"It's too dark," Sam murmurs, walking over and slowly reaching up to hang his own IV on one of the other hooks next to Dean's. He lets out a sigh of relief when he lowers his arm without too much pain and turns to Dean. He smiles softly. "You okay to move over?"

Dean chuckles, gingerly scooting himself over to make room. "At least I'm not the only one who will have a grudge against the dark for a while."

Sam grins. He makes sure Dean's pillows are still supporting him before turning and slowly scooting himself up onto the bed backwards. He lets out a breath when he gets up there, making sure to turn his body with his legs as he lifts them onto the bed. He groans when he's finally all into the bed.

"You okay?" Dean asks softly, reaching out to rest a hand on his back.

Sam turns onto his side, curling up next to Dean and resting is arm over Dean's waist to rest his hand over Dean's bandages with perfect precision. "I'm fine. I'm more worried about you. They said you were out for a long time with a fever. When did you wake up?"

"Honestly? About fifteen minutes ago. I was debating whether or not finding out if you were okay was a good reason to use the emergency button."

Sam snorts. "I have awesome timing."

Dean chuckles, reaching up to card his fingers through Sam's hair when his brother rests his head down on his shoulder. "How about you? What's the diagnosis?"

Sam sighs. "Two broken ribs. One cracked. Pneumonia that didn't make it more than a day. Nothing too bad."

Dean growls deep in his throat. "_Two _broken ribs? And you were moving around like that down there? Damnit Sam…"

"Hey. I did what I had to do." He turns his head up to look at his brother. "I was doing all I could to make sure you made it out with me. Don't you get mad at me. You would have done the same thing."

Dean sighs, his eyes falling closed. "Still. Two broken ribs? I just… and all I had was a cut. I guess I didn't do too good at protecting you."

"Dean. All you _did _was protect me. That wendigo attacked _you_. And you kept me calm all those times I was panicking. You were great. Okay? And you have worse. I know you do. You just keep it from me."

Dean snorts. "Whatever." He turns his head to kiss Sam's forehead.

Sam lets loose a blinding smile, glad his brother hasn't reverted back to his old self now that they're out of the tunnels. His smile fades though as he works up to asking for more. "Dean…"

Dean sighs. "Sam."

"Don't. Just… not today. Okay? We'll talk about it later. But… can we please just leave it as it is for now? I just love you so much and after all of that…"

Dean silences him with a kiss, other hand tilting his head up to angle it perfectly. It's the best kiss so far. When Dean pulls back, he looks seriously into Sam's wide eyes. "We will talk about this. Not now. But we will. We'll come to a decision together. It may not make us happy. It may all be okay. But we'll make a decision and keep it. Okay?"

Sam sighs. "Okay." He scoots closer, laying his head down on his brother's shoulder again. He turns his head to tuck his nose into the soft skin and breathe deeply. "I love you."

Dean continues to card his fingers through Sam's hair. "I love you too, little brother. Always." He kisses Sam's head, rolling his eyes at himself. There's not way he's going to be able to tell both Sam and himself "no" when they sit down to talk about this. He's in too deep. "Even if you are a little bitch," he mutters without too much heat.

"Jerk," Sam breathes half-consciously.

Dean chuckles, laying his head against Sam's.

* * *

It's three o'clock in the morning. The floor is empty. The few nurses that stay the night are mostly in the break room seeing as the patients are asleep. If they're needed, the alarms will sound. One nurse though, Tami, goes in to check on the youngest Winchester. The boy was having trouble breathing earlier. The pneumonia in full force until the antibiotics help. The struggle had pulled on her heart, the puppy eyes still working through their droop as he demanded updates on his brother.

She opens the door quietly, wanting to just look in and listen to his breathing. See if he's sleeping comfortably. She gasps when the bed is empty. She turns and starts to run for help, but stops only a few feet away. Thinks. Shakes her head as she sighs. Then she turns to go down the hall towards Recovery.

The older brother wasn't under her care, but in keeping the younger updated, she knows what room he's in. She wonders to herself if the younger had to look in every room until he found his brother. Is in awe of how much it probably took of his already weak energy to get there. She isn't surprised when she cracks open the door to see him in there. What does get her attention is how they're laying.

Her eyes move over the two forms laying in the bed, tears almost springing to her eyes at the sight. The younger brother is tucked up against the older, head under his chin laying on his chest. An arm is thrown over his brother's waist, resting on his side where the blanket has been moved down to show the bandages. It looks like he's protecting his brothers wound, hand resting right over it. His eyes are closed and he's breathing perfectly.

The older brother has his head laying on the younger's, his left hand resting on his brother's arm that's over his waist. The arm with the IV is curled around the younger's shoulders and holding him to his side. The hand is up on top of his shoulder, fingers playing with his brother's hair.

His eyes are open, sparkling black in the dark as they look at Tami. A mix of dangerous and protective. He raises the hand resting on his brother's arm to rest a finger against his lips. Quiet, it says. It's both a warning and a dare. _Don't wake up Sam,_ and, _I dare you to separate us_. She sees them both loud and clear.

She gives him a small smile, backing out of the room and letting the door click quietly shut. She has no doubt that if she had woken the younger up, she would have faced a very angry older brother. As she walks away, she has no doubt that it was having each other that saved their lives in whatever situation they had been in. She hopes them the best.


	10. Chapter 10

**Long chapter :) Not many left at all. Maybe one or two more.  
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**Thanks for the following and reviews! Enjoy!  
**

**Ch. 10**

The brothers are discovered the next morning, prompting the move of Sam into Dean's room. They move a new bed in first, getting the machinery and everything ready before waking him. Through it all he stays asleep, face hidden in the older brother's neck. Older brother himself eventually wakes to see what's going on, smirking to himself.

When the nurses notice he's awake, he's asked a few questions and thoroughly checked. Well… as much as they can check him with Sam up against his side. Through it all, he keeps his arm protectively around his brother's shoulders. When he's asked about their current position, he chuckles. "You try getting trapped in the dark for a few days and see if you might want some company every time you're plunged into darkness again. Besides, he's my little brother. If he feels the need to climb into my bed to feel safe, I'm not going to turn him away."

When the doctor comes in, he's torn between worried and a little awed at their devotion. Even as Sam sleeps, his hand never moves from where it's resting over Dean's wound making it impossible to check it until Dean lets them wake Sam up. "You had enough energy to move over for him?"

Dean nods. "Wasn't hard. And as I told them, I wasn't going to turn him away. Truth is, I was more surprised he was up and walking."

The doctor sighs. "That is worrying. Do you mind if we wake him now?"

Dean inwardly grins, proud to have established that he has chief authority over what happens to Sam. Softly putting his hand on Sam's shoulder, he turns his head to lean and look at Sam's face. "Sammy."

The two nurses in the room and the doctor stare in shock as that's all it takes for Sam to open his eyes, lifting his head a little bit to blink blearily up at Dean. "Hmm?"

"They have a bed set up in here for you now. You want to get up and climb in it?" Dean brushes his brother's bangs from his forehead.

Sam lets his eyes fall closed, laying his head back on Dean's shoulder. "But you're so warm," he murmurs.

Dean chuckles. "C'mon, buddy. It'll be better for you. And they need to check you out. See how your ribs are after the surgery. And I'm sure they'll give you some warm blankets."

One of the nurses leaves to do just that, the other one smiling. "Of course we can."

Sam finally sits up, groaning. "You suck."

Dean chuckles. "And you're a ball of sunshine as ever."

Sam finally opens his eyes again, letting loose a tired but happy smile. "One more thing before I'm confined to my bed." He leans forward, sliding an arm around his brother's shoulders to give him a soft hug.

Dean rolls his eyes but returns it, even burying his face in Sam's shoulder for a minute. He ruffles Sam's hair when he pulls back. "Alright, kiddo. Let them check you over."

Moving to sit up more, Sam lets out a strangled whimper when he moves to sit at the edge of the bed.

Dean touches his hand to his back. "Sammy? You need more pain meds?"

Sam nods, hands gripping the mattress so that his knuckles turn white.

The doctor goes around, injecting it through the IV as Dean soothingly rubs his hand around Sam's back. "You alright?" he asks softly, worry evident. He sits up a little more, his own side burning as he tries to comfort his brother.

"Yeah," Sam bites out tightly.

"Just wait for it to stop hurting. Then be careful. Okay?" The bed is prepared while Sam sits like a statue until the pain starts to wane, Dean rubbing circles across his back the whole time. When he finally lets out a breath, Dean smiles. "You okay now?"

Sam nods. "Getting there."

A nurse comes over to help Sam to his feet, walking him over to his bed with a hand at the top of the gown to hold it closed. "Do you want to change now to save the trouble of doing it later?" she asks thoughtfully. "We're going to keep you for a couple days so we have some clothes for you.

Sam nods. "Yeah. I'll just get it over with.

They bring the clothes in, blue pants and a plain white t-shirt, setting them down on Sam's bed. "You need any help?"

Dean has to grit his teeth to keep from snapping at her. Nurse or not, no one gets to see Sam so vulnerable.

Luckily for him, Sam shakes his head. "I'm okay. It's starting to feel better."

The nurse nods, unhooking the tube from the IV needle, looking over to Dean. "Um…"

Sam waves her off as he grins when Dean rolls his eyes. "It's fine. He practically raised me and it's not the first time I've been less than decent."

The nurse chuckles, pulling the curtain as she leaves the room. "I'll be back in five minutes, okay?" They hear the door close.

Sam groans as he leans back against the bed, sliding the gown off of his shoulders. He snorts when Dean looks away. "Really?"

"Nothing wrong with giving you privacy," Dean grumbles.

"Should I remind you-"

"No." Dean cuts him off sharply.

Sam frowns as he pulls on the shirt, hissing when lifting his arms hurts his ribs. Then he stands up to let the gown fall to his feet and pull on his pants. He lets out a small whine when he bends over. He's just glad the pain isn't as bad as it was earlier. When he's standing again, he can see Dean's hands in fists in his lap, head still turned away. He rolls his eyes. "I'm done."

Dean relaxes as Sam makes it up onto the bed. His eyes move up Sam's body. When his eyes meet his brother's, he gives him a soft smile. "You okay?"

Sam stares at him pointedly.

Dean doesn't take the bait. "So, did Dad see you?"

"Dean."

"Sam. Don't."

"But…"

"That's not something we even remotely need to talk about."

Sam's eyes harden. "Yes, it is."

Dean doesn't back down. "No, it's not. Especially not right now."

"Dean, not everything can wait 'till later."

"Sure it can." He lets his head fall back against the pillow, his eyes falling closed.

Sam glares, but grunts his way through the pain of moving himself up the bed to get comfortable.

The nurse comes in and hooks him back up to everything, calling the doctor in to look Sam over. When he's satisfied with the condition of Sam's ribs, he leaves them be. Then the room is silent again. Dean keeps his eyes closed and finally relaxes now that he knows that Sam's going to be okay.

Sam tries to find a way to get Dean to open up to him again. Sure, he's not totally back to how he was before they were trapped, but he's still starting to close up and not want to talk things out or let them be as he was down there. Sam misses that. He's still awake when Dean falls asleep, sighing when he notices the familiar breathing pattern. At least Dean is getting some rest.

John shows up not too long after that, looking a hundred times better than he did yesterday. He chuckles when he walks into the room. "I underestimated you. You got yourself moved in here quickly."

Sam grins at his dad. "Hey. You look better."

John nods, going over to stand next to Dean. "He still out?" he asks worriedly.

Sam chuckles. "Nah. He was up earlier, talking and being his usual jerk self."

"Shut up, bitch," Dean grumbles, opening his eyes. He looks to John. "Hey."

"Hey. How're you feeling?"

Dean huffs. "Better. Nothing too bad."

"So… you guys feel like sharing anything?" He pulls up a chair, relaxing back into it since his boys are okay and ready to hear the story.

Dean chuckles. "Well, the wendigo is dead."

John grins. "That so?"

Dean nods, smiling proudly. "Yup. Sammy got 'im"

Sam smiles even though he's still frustrated with Dean, preening when John looks to him with a proud look. "We ran into him maybe two days before you found us. That's what broke my ribs. Slammed right into me."

"Threw me into the wall and knocked me out," Dean cuts in. "Hit my head on a beam, I guess."

John nods. "So that's what that bruise is."

Sam's eyes snap to him. "What?"

"Perfectly straight bruise from his shoulder to about halfway down his back. Nice color of blue," John tells him wryly.

Sam glares at Dean. "I knew you were hiding things."

Dean rolls his eyes. "It's just a bruise."

"Which I'm sure hurt like hell and could have been worse!"

"Hey. Let's not get into that, you two. You both made it out, that's all that matters."

Sam looks away, glaring at the wall and misses Dean's slightly hurt look at being dismissed like that.

"Anything else interesting?"

Dean shakes his head, getting back on track. "Nothing exciting. Just a really long, dark, wet trip. It sucked, but we made it."

John nods, knowing about wanting to just put things behind him. "Well, I hate to do this to you guys, but Bobby called. Needs some help with something going down. I figured if you guys were okay, I'd go help him. So… how are you guys feeling?"

Dean waves him off. "We'll be fine in a few days. I know they won't let Sam out for a while but we can meet you at Bobby's when we get out."

John nods. "You sure?"

Dean looks over to Sam, faltering for just a second when he sees his little brother is still looking away. "Yeah. You go help him. He probably needs it if he's calling you."

John chuckles. "Yeah, you're right about that." He stands, patting Dean's shoulder before turning to leave. "You boys be good. Let me know when you're leaving for Bobby's. I'll leave the impala for you."

"Yes sir." Dean watches him leave after setting the keys to the impala on Dean's bag before looking at Sam. "If you're going to be a little bitch to me just because I'm not giving you what you want, you could at least say goodbye to dad." He glares when Sam doesn't reply, still looking the other way out the window. He sighs, gingerly pushing himself out of his bed. "Fine."

He returns later with two sandwiches from the cafeteria, given to him for free when another nurse had come up and bragged about the tough few days they've had. It may have been charity food, but it was just a nurse cafeteria lady being nice. And Sam was most likely hungry. So who was he to refuse? Setting them on the tray by Sam's bed, he lets his brother ignore him as he climbs back into his own. "Goodnight."

* * *

The nurses are confused in the morning at how the brothers seem terse with each other. But they know that everyone has a bad day. And these two might have a lot to deal with after only having each other for the past few days and having to return to the real world so suddenly. The story of the two brothers stuck in an old mine has passed through the hospital by both staff and the local newspaper. Luckily, it's a small town so that paired with fake names shouldn't follow them very far when they leave.

Sam had eaten the sandwich last night after his stomach started growling, grumbling a reluctant "Thanks" at his brother. Dean hadn't replied. That carried over into the morning, causing them to both be frustrated with each other to the point of anger. Sam angry for Dean avoiding everything and not telling him when he's hurt, and Dean angry at Sam for not understanding why he kept his pain from him and why he won't approach "the problem".

Both of them are angry for the loss of comfort with each other. After being trapped down there, the comfort level they were used to was upped to a new level. Now that they're back… neither like how many people are always around and how self conscious they are in the bright lights of the hospital. In summary? It's a sucky day.

The next day, the nurses tell Sam that he should be okay to take a shower if he feels up to it. Seeing as how he hasn't had a wash since the one they gave him before surgery, he jumps (figuratively) at the opportunity. When the nurse tells him that someone should help him in case his ribs give him trouble, he freezes.

Dean's head snaps around, eyes narrowed at the back of the nurse. She's blocking Sam, so he knows his brother can't see him. But he also knows that Sam is self-conscious. And the fact that someone seeing his brother so vulnerable makes his teeth grind, it isn't hard to make his own opinion known. "I'll do it."

The nurse turns to him, frowning. "Do you think you're well enough? If you're not, it really should be a nurse that-"

"Look, no offense, but I trust myself a lot more than I trust anyone here."

The nurse hears what he means loud and clear. She nods. "Okay. Just make sure he doesn't strain himself." She leaves.

"I don't need you babying me, Dean," Sam grumbles.

Dean rolls his eyes, standing from his bed. "I'm not babying you. Besides, you can't honestly tell me that you'd rather a complete stranger stands in the bathroom with you while you shower," he growls.

The nurse comes back not a minute later with shampoo and soap from the hospital. "You can use these. I'll grab a towel for you on the way. Do you have clothes with you?"

Dean nods.

Sam stands slowly to go to where their dad had dropped off their bags before leaving for Bobby's. He digs around for a bit before pulling some out and turning to them.

The nurse leads the way, Sam following carefully behind and Dean at the rear in case Sam starts hurting more. He can already tell that Sam is bending over a little to lessen the pain. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean."

Dean sighs. "Sam. You need to let me know if-"

Sam spins on him right as the nurse stops at the door to the shower room. "I don't need to tell you anything, Dean! If you have to come in and sit to make sure I don't hurt myself, fine. But you don't need to keep asking if I'm okay and then ignore me whenever I say we need to talk!" He spins around, going into the room and letting the door fall closed behind him.

Dean winces, scratching the back of his neck with a sigh. He gives the nurse a tight smile and takes the towel, leaning against the side of the door as she leaves. He waits until he hears the water start and the shower curtain is pulled before opening the door and slipping in. He locks it behind him and sets the towel on the toilet seat.

Just because they're not exactly happy with each other right now, doesn't mean that Dean is going to leave him alone where he could get hurt. So he sits on the floor of the bathroom, head resting back against the wall as he listens to the patter of water on the shower floor. He doesn't talk. Sam doesn't talk. But Dean has made sure he's nearby.

Even though he's putting off the talk between him and Sam, that doesn't mean he's not going to hide the possessiveness he's always had towards his brother. Since Sam doesn't mind the attention, he'll be damned if he lets some nurse take care of him if he could do it himself. Sam is _his_. His to take care of. His to protect. And especially now, the thought of someone being in here while Sam showers grates on his nerves.

Right after that thought, Sam suddenly lets out a hoarse noise, followed by a thump.

Despite his own healing side, Dean jumps up and has the curtain pulled back in a second. He's just in time to catch Sam, gently lowering his body to the floor of the shower as it gives way even more from where it was leaning against the side. "Sammy."

He pays no mind to his clothes getting soaked, his attention all focused on Sam. "Sam. C'mon, buddy. Don't do this to me. I thought you were okay." He lets himself fall to a sitting position on the floor, leaning Sam back against him and reaching up to tilt his face back. "Hey." He smiles a little when Sam opens his eyes.

Sam lets his eyes fall closed again. "Hey."

"You okay?" Dean asks shakily when he sees how pale his brother is. "Sammy."

"Jus' reached up too high. Meds wearin' off. Pain was too much I guess. Got dizzy." He lets his head fall over to rest on Dean's chest.

Dean notices for the first time that there is still soap in Sam's hair. "Alright. C'mon. Let's get you rinsed off, huh? You gonna be alright?"

Sam groans. "Maybe."

Dean tries to keep his eyes out of awkward territory, sliding his own soaked shirt over his head and throwing it behind him to the floor before letting Sam fall back against him. He angles the two of them under the water, taking over washing and rinsing Sam's hair. He smiles softly when Sam hums appreciatively, making sure to massage his scalp a little more. When the soap is gone he turns off the water and reaches behind himself to get the towel.

It's with almost painstakingly gentle movements that he dries Sam's face, neck, chest, arms, and finally drops the towel over his brother's waist. Sliding it under and pulling it around, he tucks it in so that it's wrapped around Sam's waist. "Okay. You ready? Think you can stand?" He wipes the wet strands of Sam's hair away from his eyes.

Sam nods, eyes opening again. He groans as he tries to sit up, letting Dean practically lift him to his feet. He can't straighten up though, letting out a pained whine when he tries.

"Think you can walk?"

Sam bites his lip, shaking his head as his eyes squeeze closed. "Hurts," he barely breathes. His hand is gripping Dean's arm hard enough to bruise.

"Alright. It's okay. I've gotchya." He takes Sam's face in his hands and kisses his forehead. "We're gonna do this slowly. Okay? I'm gonna help you pull on your boxers and sweatpants and we'll go back to the room and wait for the medicine to kick in before you try for your shirt. Okay?"

Sam nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip again as another wave of pain hits.

Dean gently taps his chin until he stops. "Hey. Don't do that." He gives Sam an encouraging smile as he kneels down. "Alright. Left leg. Right." He slides Sam's boxers up under the towel before pulling it off and helping him into his sweatpants.

"You know," Sam breathes, "you could have just taken the towel off. Nothing you haven't-"

"Not now, Sam."

Sam sighs.

Sliding the sweatpants up is decidedly easier now that the towel isn't in the way. Then Dean stands back up and leans over. "Lean over a little more, buddy."

Sam lets out a high pitched groan as he does so, leaning over to Dean's specifications.

"I know, I know. On three. Ready? One…" he lifts Sam into his arms bridal style, grimacing when Sam lets out a sharp cry. He kisses the top of Sam's head. "Sorry little brother." He holds Sam tightly to him as he reaches out only a finger from under Sam's legs to push the handle of the door down, lock clicking out on it's own.

A nurse walking by stops suddenly when she looks over to see them, going to help.

Dean shakes his head. "I've got him. Can you just get his shirt please?"

"Of course." She steps around them, grabbing the folded shirt on the sink and turning to follow them down the hallway.

The brother's get a lot of glances their way, both shirtless with bruises and cuts along their body. The long bruise on Dean's back is almost a florescent green under the light now that the purple has faded. From behind him, the nurse following can see the hand that Sam has thrown around Dean's neck to hold onto is gripping him tight enough to sink his finger nails into his skin and draw blood. Dean never seems to notice.

Getting back to their room, she feels like she's intruding as she watches the older gently lay his younger brother down on the bed as slowly as possible while he murmurs unintelligibly in reply to the quiet whimpers. He leans over until Sam is laying on his pillows before gently prying his fingers from his back. He brushes the hair from his face as their assigned nurse comes in to get him some pills.

Dean takes them, murmuring to Sam as he gives them to him and holds a cup of water to his lips a second later. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, but thinks better of it when he remembers his own pants are soaked. Pulling up a chair, he runs a finger over the stitches in Sam's side from the surgery.

"Should I re-dress these?" he asks the other nurse.

She looks at it. "Hmmm… Maybe. Just to be safe."

Dean nods. Then looks to Sam. "Let me know when you're feeling better, okay buddy?"

Sam nods, not even opening his eyes.

Dean stands again, turning to the nurse still standing in the doorway. "Hey. Thanks." He takes Sam's shirt, looking down to chuckle.

The nurse tilts her head. "What's funny?"

He grins up at her, holding up the shirt. "He had grabbed a shirt for his shower. Should have known the little shit would have taken my favorite."

She looks to see that it's a Metallica shirt, smiling when she sees that it's old and worn, most likely comfortable and soft. She smiles up at him, putting a hand to his arm. "I was the one who looked after Sam when the pneumonia had started to get the better of him and the one who found him in your bed the other night." She holds out her other hand. "Tami."

He chuckles. "That's right." He shakes her hand. "Thanks for looking out for him."

"You ever need anything, let me know. Seems I have a soft spot for you guys."

Dean almost blushes, looking over at Sam. "Yeah, puppy dog eyes over there seems to do that to people."

She laughs. "You can work them pretty good too. I've seen how you are with your brother." She shrugs when he looks to her. "I have. Never seen someone so devoted to another person in my life. And I want you to know that it doesn't go unnoticed." She reaches up to pull him down into her arms.

Dean closes his arms gently around here, slightly shocked.

When she lets go, she winks at him. "You remind me of my son. Before he died." She puts a finger to Dean's heart. "Don't you stop showing what's in here. Because that's what people will always remember. And what seems to be keeping you two alive."

Dean nods once.

"I heard that argument earlier before his shower. Now, I may just be a random, middle aged nurse, but I know a few things about that. Don't avoid the issue if you don't want to lose him. Your brother obviously adores you. Don't ruin that over a petty argument."

Dean smiles softly. "You sound like I'd imagine my mother would if she were here right now."

Tami smiles knowingly. "All mothers see when children are hanging by a thread."

Dean sighs, looking down. "Is Sammy going to be okay?" He looks up through his eyelashes, eyes shining in worry. "I know the doctor said he'd get better, but every day seems like he's hurting more and more. The wiring…"

Tami interrupts. "The wiring is very minimal. It's just enough to keep the bone in place. That's not what hurts. Your brother has been telling us to lower the medicine dosage"

Dean's eyes flash. "What?"

She reaches out to grip his arm. "He wants to know his limitations. Like many of our other patients, he's trying to see how soon he can get back on his feet. Don't get mad at him. Okay? He just waited too long to ask for more today. But I think… he's trying to impress you."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Of course he is." He chuckles though, a soft smile sneaking onto his lips before he can stop it.

"I've told Jenna over there to up his dosage a little. You're brother should stop hurting in a bit. She'll be monitoring him and keep him from lowering his medication too much again to keep you from having a heart attack." She winks at him.

Dean chuckles. "Thanks."

"Go back to your brother. He wants you."

Sure enough, when Dean turns around, Sam's half-lidded eyes are on him. When he sees Dean looking at him, he moves his arm over to hold out his hand. Dean looks back to her. "Thanks."

She waves him off as she leaves. "I'll see you two later."


	11. Chapter 11

**Last chapter! I can't believe I've done it again. Seems impossible though it is shorter than the last one. I hope it's a satisfying ending. Maybe a little abrupt, but I just wanted one last chapter to tie up the story and maybe explain my reasoning.  
**

**Have some cute brotherly love after this past week's painful episode :/  
**

* * *

**Ch. 11**

Dean doesn't take Sam's hand. Instead, he helps him sit up, re-dressing the stitches over his ribs before carefully sliding the shirt over him. He lays him back down and scoots him over. Then he changes his own pants, climbing in next to Sam and tucking him into his side so that he's laying his head on Dean's chest. He kisses the top of Sam's head. "Sammy, this new… thing between us scares the shit outta me. Okay? And I'm trying to figure out any reason that it could be alright. In the meantime, can you wait? Please?"

Sam tightens his arm around Dean's middle, kissing Dean's neck. "I'm sorry I'm so pushy. And I know it's… weird. I guess I've felt this for so long now, I'm having an easier time adjusting. But I know it's wrong. And I'll let you take as long as you need before we talk about it to make the decision." He presses his face into Dean's neck. "Just don't treat me different."

Dean hugs Sam to him. "I won't. You'll first and foremost be my little brother. And you know that no matter what, I'll love you. Right?"

Sam nods. "Okay. I'll always love you too, Dean."

"Okay? What do you mean by okay? You were supposed to say, 'Right, Dean. I know that. Of course you will.'"

Sam chuckles. "Sorry. There's always that fear that I'll ruin everything now."

"Sammy, you're mine. Nothing is _ever_ going to change that."

Sam grins, hugging Dean even tighter to him. "I think I like hearing that more than the 'I love you'."

Dean chuckles. "Well that's less girly too so I could say that more often."

"Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"You're mine too, right?"

Dean smiles softly, turning his head into Sam's hair to murmur into it. "Sammy, I have always been yours." He kisses the soft strands. "Just like you've always been mine. Don't you ever doubt that this is a two way street."

Sam burrows himself into his brother, almost wishing he could climb inside and live there. Warm and loved for the rest of his life. He lets out a content sigh. "Goodnight, Dean."

"'Night, Sammy." He lays awake for a while, just looking down at Sam's soft face. He's out almost instantly, giving Dean plenty of time to stare without Sam asking about it. His brother is kind of beautiful. Anyone could see that. There's a look of innocence about him. It makes him want to keep Sam right here. Safely next to him forever. "I'll always be right here little brother." He lets himself get comfortable, falling asleep minutes later.

* * *

It takes a lot of convincing from Dean, but they manage to check out the next day with lectures from every nurse that's ever taken care of them to be careful. Dean rolls his eyes at each one, smirking to himself when Sam blushes under the attention. They've become pretty popular during their stay.

Dean lets Sam be the mother hen for a minute as he gets dressed, pausing in putting his shirt on to let Sam look over the stitched up gash. It isn't infected anymore, starting to heal nicely. When he hears the relieved sigh, he pulls his shirt on and turns to his brother. "Hey. You've known it was better."

Sam shrugs, hands sliding into his pockets. "Seeing it makes a huge difference. I saw it down there. By the tiny glow of the lighter. It was… gruesome."

Dean chuckles, pulling Sam to him by an arm around his shoulders. He kisses the top of his head. "C'mon, Sammy. I'm ready to get out of here."

Sam smiles into Dean's chest. "Me too."

The last to talk to them is the doctor. He sighs when he walks up to them. "Well you're checking out sooner than I'd like, but you are healed enough I suppose." He holds out the brace to Sam. "Riding in the car shouldn't hurt too much, but if you ever have to do a lot of moving around, I'd put it on to keep your ribs from shifting. It acts as both a support and a way to keep you from bending where it would hurt anything."

Sam nods. "Okay."

"Don't worry, Doc. I'll take care of him." Dean ruffles Sam's hair much to his annoyance.

The doctor chuckles. "I'm sure you will. You boys be careful now. No more exploring abandoned mines," he jokes wryly.

Dean snorts. "No problem." He and Sam turn to go. He gives one last, warm smile to Tami, who holds the door open for them. "Thanks, sweetheart."

She smiles warmly. "You keep him out of trouble."

Dean winks at her.

They find the impala, Dean opening the door for Sam and standing by in case Sam needs help getting in. He settles in fine by himself, huffing in annoyance when Dean closes the door for him and goes around to the other side. "I can do some things myself, you know?"

"Yep." Dean starts up the impala, eyes falling closed and a small smile appearing on his face. It's been a while since he's driven.

Sam scowls. "Geeze, you'd think you hadn't been here in a year."

"Ah, don't worry Sammy. You're still my favorite." He grins at him, pulling out of the parking spot.

Sam huffs. "We both know you have an unhealthy relationship with this car, Dean. Even dad knows."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Whatever bitch. Which way to Bobby's?"

And for the first time ever, they're going across states by themselves. Usually they don't have to go far when it's just the two of them. This is the first time they've been navigating without John sleeping in the back seat or less than a state away. It's nice. Dean sings along to the radio, ignoring Sam's scowl and eventually cajoling him to singing along. It's very rare he can do so, smiling widely in victory when he does. He's glad Sam is having fun with him.

They don't stop for hours, content with having each other close and being back to SamandDean again. No more hospital staff hovering. No John giving orders. Just being brothers on the road. For the first time, Sam looks at the passing landscape and thinks 'I could do this forever'. If only it were just him and his brother. No monsters. No hunting. Just riding in the impala with Dean at the wheel. Yeah. He could do that forever. It's everything else that's the problem.

He's leaning his back against the passenger door now, feet having moved to his brother's lap an hour ago. Perfect vantage point to see both the map in his lap and Dean's face when he looks up. Watching shadows and sunlight move across his brother's face is his new favorite past time. And he thinks, 'Why are we stuck in this life?'

Dean finally pulls over to get gas when he sees Sam shifting around to stop the pain in his ribs from the uneven road. After filling the impala up they go in to the station to get some snacks, Dean hovering around Sam in case his brother is pushing himself too much. And if maybe his hand hovers just brushing Sam's back, neither mention it.

It's a skeevy gas station though. Out in the middle of hillbilly country in the middle of nowhere. Dean has his gun at his back as usual now that he's out of the hospital, but he still keeps his eyes on the two other men that are here. Isn't afraid to make eye contact when he sees them looking at Sam too long. Or himself for that matter. He knows they're both too pretty for their own good at times. He's glad for his decent size and hopes Sam gets big too when he finally starts growing.

They check out fine. It's when they're opening the doors to the impala that they get trouble.

"That's a mighty fine car ya have there," a man drawls, stepping away from his truck. "You look a little young to be able to afford it."

Dean turns to Sam. "Get in the car."

Sam doesn't move. "Dean. You too."

"Sam. I said get in the car."

The man stops two feet away from the end of the open door that Dean is standing behind. "Hey, I'm talking to you, boy."

Dean's face gets stone cold, turning away from Sam to face the man. "Back off. Now." The fact that Sam is hurt and unable to defend himself if things get really messy makes Dean more serious than usual. No joking around this time. No playing around. He can take this man easily if things get out of hand. Usually he'd be egging him on. But Sam is right behind him.

The man chuckles. "Or what, pretty boy?"

Not in the mood to play around, Dean pulls his gun, resting it on the top of the door. "Or I'm gonna shoot you. And trust me, I won't feel guilty."

The man jumps back, but stands his ground and narrows his eyes. "You wouldn't."

Dean nods back towards Sam. "See my brother here? He just got out of the hospital. Bad car accident. Has a few broken ribs. I'm not in the mood to mess around today. Anyone comes within ten feet of him and I won't hesitate to shoot. You get me?"

The man sneers at him but backs up. "Ya'll get outta here. Before I call the cops."

Dean chuckles. "I have a license for this one. But don't worry. We're leaving."

Sam lets out an airy laugh after they close their doors and Dean starts the impala. "You have a license for that one?"

Dean grins. "I do. Dad has a license for the one he carries all the time too. Figured if we get caught with our usual, we can't get busted for unlicensed carry."

Sam blinks. "Wow. I didn't know that."

Dean chuckles. "Not everything we do is illegal, Sam."

Sam snorts, watching the man standing by his truck disappear into the distance. Then he looks over to Dean. "Hey. You did good back there."

Dean smiles, reaching over to rest his arm on the back of the seat. His hand rests on the back of Sam's neck. "No one messes with us, little bro. Especially when you're hurt."

Sam scoffs. "I could have taken him."

Dean chuckles lowly. "Not without hurting yourself again. Besides, I wouldn't have let him get to you. I didn't like the way he was eyeing you up."

Sam frowns. "He was looking at the car, Dean."

Dean's eyes narrow and dart over to Sam before returning to the road. "The car was an excuse to get closer. But he was looking at you. What were you looking at?"

Sam grimaces. "I was watching you. And the distance between you two. Watching for if he got closer."

Dean sighs, yanking lightly at a bit of hair at the back of Sam's head. "You need to pay attention Sammy. To anything that might be a threat. Not to me. I can take care of myself. I can take care of you. But always keep your eyes open to the little details. If he had went after you and you weren't ready for it…" he trials off, stricken with the thought.

"Thanks."

Dean looks over. "What?"

"Thanks," Sam murmurs again. He shrugs. "I'm glad I always feel safe with you."

Dean huffs. "I know for a fact you didn't feel safe down in that mine."

Sam leans over, suddenly tired. He slowly maneuvers himself down to lay his head on Dean's thigh, his hand resting on his brother's knee. "Actually, I did. I didn't feel happy. I was a little scared that we'd never get out. But I always felt safe. If we both died together, I wouldn't mind. But you kept me safe until it was hopeless. You never fail if it isn't your fault."

Dean hesitates only a second before letting his hand fall to run his fingers through his brother's hair. He sees a habit forming. "Well… thanks I guess," he barely whispers.

Sam smiles softly, eyes closing. It isn't long before he's lulled to sleepy by the fingers in his hair and the comforting sound of the impala. The leg beneath his head is the perfect pillow. He doesn't wake up until they make it to Bobby's late that night.

The house is empty but unlocked, the dog used as the only security seeing as how a lock wouldn't keep out demons or any other monster that mattered. Dean calls John, leaving a message that they made it before giving Sam a new dose of pain pills. He hovers around Sam as they make their way up the stairs to the familiar guest bedroom. It's slow going, Sam still a little disoriented from waking up and the affect of the new pain pills, the lingering pain not helping matters. But they make it up.

Dean turns on the little lamp by the bed, pulling Sam's shirt over his head before laying him down and covering him up. He pulls his own shirt off as he goes around the bed. Climbing in, he reaches over to turn off the light. He stops when Sam's hand closes around his other arm. "Okay." He turns around, pulling Sam into his arms. "It's okay. The light can stay on. I've got you."

Sam burrows into his brother's chest. "Thanks," he slurs sleepily.

Dean chuckles. "Of course, Sammy." He holds his brother close, eyes falling closed only minutes after he buries his nose in his brother's hair.

For the first time in two weeks, the two fall asleep content. For the first time in years, they fall asleep happy. For the millionth time, they fall asleep home.

* * *

**Thanks for following the story guys. :) **

**What's funny, is this started out with the idea of what made Sam so desperate for a safe life. That's what he always talked about when he said why he went to Stanford. That he "wanted to be safe". This story started out as a reason for him to want to leave the life. How Dean won't always be able to protect him. It was supposed to be an impossible situation that Dean couldn't save him from and got him wanting to find a way out.  
**

**But... it took on a mind of it's own. And i realized that Dean was never the problem, just as Sam says. Eventually, he probably just got tired of Dean having to protect him and decided he wanted a 'safe' life that wouldn't require anyone to do so. And maybe he even asked Dean to go with him which we all know Dean would never be able to do, good little soldier that he was at the time. **

**But anyway, this story told the opposite of what the idea started out as. How Dean was the only way Sam ever felt safe in the life of a hunter. He was the only reason he stuck around as long as he did. Down in the mine, Dean was the only reason Sam was able to keep it together. He was Sam's 'safe'. So in effect, this story became how much Sam trusted his brother and how when Dean came back for Sam at Stanford... he had trusted him to keep him safe. Get him back in time for the interview. Dean was never the reason he didn't feel 'safe'.  
**

**No matter the changes in my thought process, i had fun writing it. So thanks for the reviews! I had fun :) And... I might have another idea for a story starting already...  
**


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